


Bucky Barnes' Attempts At Rescuing Villains

by fouryearslater (CheshireCatLife)



Series: Bucky's Team Is Better Than The Avengers [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alpine and Steve have an...interesting relationship, Angst, Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Bucky Barnes Has Cats, Bucky is probably not the most responsible mentor, Bullying, But he sure is fun, Cats, Collaboration, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Hurt Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Realism, Swearing, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Teamwork, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Underage Drinking, Very seriously, actual representation of the relationships I tagged this with, all of them - Freeform, all tags from the first fic still apply, and Steve is a bit neurotic about it, but not really because come on, don't know how to tag sequels, honestly, it's sequel time!, liberal stances on alcohol, more relationships this time, more so than the last one, probably, probably excessive drinking, that was kinda stupid on marvel's part, unlike (possibly) the last fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatLife/pseuds/fouryearslater
Summary: Bucky stuck up for the people who needed it. First it was Peter. Then it was Wanda. Even MJ. And now, he had someone in need of more help than ever.His gaggle of ragtag teenagers had a job to do.[A story of redemption with the new elements of: pink jumpers, cats, Peter and MJ being idiots, and a sassy Asgardian prince + much more Stucky.]
Relationships: Alpine & James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, The Team & Everyone, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Bucky's Team Is Better Than The Avengers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882594
Comments: 162
Kudos: 262





	1. Loki

**Author's Note:**

> Presuming you've read the note on the last fic (and are up to there on updates) you'll be able to skip straight to the interlude! Thank you so much to moving to the sequel and showing your support. It means a great deal to me!
> 
> [IMPORTANT TIMELINE POINT: yeah, yeah, Frigga isn’t alive in 2015 but although I’m one of the few people that actually liked Thor: The Dark World (forgive me but it was my first ever Marvel film so it holds a weird importance), I’ve decided to completely forgo it. Skipped right to Thor: Ragnarok and am following the assumption that Frigga helped Heimdall with the refugees.
> 
> Also, Loki is not a teenager, I know, but as has been covered by the fandom, he’s the equivalent to a 16 year old or something in Asgardian terms so watch me use that loophole to my advantage.]

September was gone, as was October. Even November had passed in a whirlwind, its chaos settling into a Christmas-infested calm in December. Bucky was probably one of few who thought that Christmas was a ‘calm’ time but he didn’t exactly have much to stress about. He was free and catching up on the things he hadn’t been able to. He’s gone to the tourist traps, taken Steve on an insurmountable amount of dates and had gone to every single session since his pardoning. That didn’t mean he didn’t have bad days, of course he did, but he felt stronger now. And, if he was honest, having the press gone was a big help.

Their sessions, sadly, had gone back down to twice a week since school had started a few months back but Bucky didn’t mind when he saw the three teenagers draw closer than ever. Wanda, apparently, had scared Flash off (even if the slinky bastard still managed to get in a few jabs any time Wanda wasn’t around) and had settled in great. Ned was fascinated by her but was dutifully keeping his mouth shut about her origins, taking the knowledge of all their secret identities with an impish grin, whispering conspiratorially about being ‘the man in the chair’. Bucky, having now watched enough movies, understood the reference.

He was not going to let Ned be the man in the chair.

He wasn’t going to do it either. He couldn’t watch…all that, anymore.

Maybe he’d make Steve do it. Someone had to, after all.

But back to the point. Wanda was doing great, really great. She had surprised them with her competency for academia and had taken to the ‘nerd life’ with frenetic intensity. Although, unlike Peter and Ned, her fascination had drawn to languages. Being as competent as she was in three languages, she’d hungrily learnt more and although their proficiency wasn’t even close to her other languages, she was a rapid polyglot that with enough training, could surely be as competent as Bucky.

Bucky and Wanda had taken to conversing in any and all languages. Wanda, especially, used it to talk about the other two (not unkindly) behind their back. Or rather, right in front of their faces. It usually led to a lot of gossip and revealing embarrassing secrets about things that happened at school.

MJ was getting her own back, though, getting Steve to tell her all the embarrassing things that had happened to Bucky over the week in their new, weekly art sessions on a Sunday. Peter, following suit, had gotten Stark to ask JARVIS to compile the most embarrassing moments of anything that happened in the Tower, including all the Avengers (bar Tony and Peter, if he could be counted as such) and Bucky’s team. 

It had led to a lot of laughter.

Which was what made December 12th, 2015 so jarring. 

They were all making their way to the gym when JARVIS interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically worried. As much as was possible for an AI, Bucky presumed. “The Tower is currently being evacuated. You are part of the group: ‘pretty competent’,” it said in Tony’s voice. “This allows you to either vacate the Tower or go to the top floor of the Tower where help is needed.”

The team looked at each other and without a word being spoken, agreed on the most obvious course of action. “JARVIS,” Bucky ordered, “take us up.”

From there, the elevator was filled with a palpable tension, each of them staring awkwardly at the ceiling or some hidden part of the wall where they could deal with their worry in peace.

Nothing made Stark Tower evacuate unless it was _really_ bad.

Which was why Bucky was a little confused when he walked into the room and the Avengers were all facing a few normal-looking guys. Long-haired, admittedly, but _he_ had long hair. It was really the only thing differentiating them. They looked like a bunch of hipsters and there were only two of them, a man and a woman. Oh, and Thor, apparently. So he was finally back.

Bucky walked up to Steve, who was in his full Captain America gear, feeling a little out of place in his black t-shirt, jeans and a blazing red leather jacket, matching his dark-red trainers. Although, all in all, it wasn’t that far off the Black Widow gear, or even his old getup, if a little more stylish. 

“Um, any reason we’re ready to fight a bunch of hipsters?” Bucky asked Steve and Steve alone, except the room held a deadly silence and his voice had nearly every head turning towards him, although at least half the eyes in the room were still trained on the hipster bunch ( _creepy_ ).

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, his eyes focused on the enemy but his shoulders losing all the pent up tension. “They’re not hipsters. That’s Thor’s family. The _Asgardian_ _royal_ family.”

Bucky turned to them, looked them up and down. “Well they look like hipsters,” he muttered. He’d thought Asgardians were supposed to look like Vikings, with heavy armour and as much gold as they could scavenge. Apparently, they liked to wear hoodies and loose dresses (unfortunately, much to Bucky’s disappointment, the dress was not on Thor) and looked like they were definitely about to ask for an overpriced IPA in a Brooklyn bar. But Bucky knew when to keep silent and refrained from any further comment. 

“Mother,” Thor finally said to break the silence, “this is James Barnes and his team of young warriors. He is training them to be ready for battle one day.”

“A teacher.” Thor’s mother - _oh my God_ \- looked impressed, nodding as she examined him. “Teaching is a brilliant profession.” Bucky wasn’t going to point out that he wasn’t _really_. He had no qualifications, worked what was probably less than part-time and spent most of his time either on Sims or trying to catch up on everything that happened after 1945. 

Bucky, in an attempt to avoid eye contact, scanned the room instead and found-

Was that Bruce?

Guess it made sense that he was back too...what the hell he was happening here?

“Thank you?” 

“You’ve grown in number since I was last here,” the final Asgardian sneered, his eyes on Stark. His jet black hair looked honest-to-God greasy and there was nothing Bucky wanted to do more than give it a good deep cleanse and condition. His clothes weren’t much better, tattered and old, as if they’d been found in a corner somewhere and been deemed acceptable.

“Enough, brother,” Thor ordered, his face grave. Only now that Bucky was looking, he noticed that it wasn’t only the tension of the Avengers that had the room bristling with capricious energy. The Asgardians - and Bruce - held their own sort of tension. Thor looked almost despondent whilst his mother, although trying to keep her head and regal, had dark circles under her eyes, her hair lying in a bird-nest-like formation above her head. Bruce was almost shaking, his eyes darting from side to side like he was still in a war zone. The last one - who the hell was he? - gave nothing away. 

Bucky recognised the tactic; to be so blank only came from hiding pain, physical or mental.

“We came to give you news. Awful news.” Thor took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sudden breath. “Asgard has fallen. Ragnarok has taken our planet.” Thor’s voice broke and seamlessly, his mother took over.

“Our refugee vessel landed in Norway just yesterday. We are hoping to make plans with your planet to make it a permanent residence of our citizens. We are few, the journey was rough and our supplies low,” her eyes were harrowed, but her head was still raised high, “but we are a strong race and now all we wish for is a place to stay.” The Avengers collectively put their arms down, although not their guards, and gave each other fleeting looks. The main question in everyone’s eyes: what does that have to do with us?

Seeing his mother’s struggle, Thor took over again. “We understand that Asgardians have wronged you in the past but we hope to overcome this. Today, we offer our help to make reparations. I will become a more permanent member of the Avengers whilst my brother will be at your beck and call. He is yours to use as you please.” And with that uncomfortable sentence finished, the offer was complete. 

“Um, look, Thor, we know you’re just trying to help-“ Stark started, before taking a long pause to take in the opinion of the room. “Look, I just don’t know if we can trust the guy who brought aliens to the planet.”

“He brought aliens here? Like non-Asgardian ones?” Bucky asked Steve, eyes wide.

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve immediately cut in. “He tried to take over the world.”

“Aliens tried to take over the world?!”

“How did you not know this?” Steve asked incredulously.

“I’m only on the 70s, okay?! A lot happens in history!”

“Yeah but this was kinda important, Buck. It was how the Avengers formed.”

“Then why don’t we like the guy? He clearly didn’t succeed and by the looks of Thor, he probably could have. Something must have changed. And he introduced us to aliens! That’s great.”

“I liked it back when you were a pessimist.”

“I am a pessimist but I’m just saying, aliens are really cool.”

“You just like sci-fi.”

“We’re living in sci-fi! And anyway, what can the guy do? Half of us don’t live here, Thor will be here the whole time, and if he screws us all over, he’s screwing over his whole kingdom too. He’s a prince, that would be stupid.”

“You weren’t there,” Steve sighed. “Loki is dangerous.”

“And you’re scared of him which is why you aren’t listening to my logic. Use him. You’ve literally got a _god_ offering his help. What’s Loki the god of anyway?”

Loki, who’d been listening intently to the whole conversation, smiled sinisterly. “Mischief and mayhem.”

“So he’s basically a clown. Steve-“ Steve tried to talk over him again. “Steve! Be a Captain. Will this guy help you out?”

“Maybe but if he pulls any of his-“

“Then Thor will stop him. Hell, his mother would too. And anyway, I think you’re all missing something about him.” Bucky smirked and looked at Loki, making eye contact, purposefully looking behind the mask and stripping Loki bare with just a look.

A flicker of worry was enough to show Bucky that he’d succeeded. To some extent, anyway; he still didn’t have a chance against a god.

“And what is that?” Tony sneered.

“That’s not for me to tell, is it? But again, this guy could have taken over the world easily. Why didn’t he?” The room fell silent. “Anyway, I’ve got a session to finish so I’ll see you guys later. Come on, guys,” he waved at his team of misfits and led them to the elevator; they followed reluctantly but stayed close behind him anyway as the Avengers gaped at him.

“Oh, and Steve!” He called as the elevator doors were closing. “Don’t be an idiot!”

~*~

From there on, their session ran as usual. Even though it appeared that his team were desperate to ask questions, they refrained and focused on their tasks. MJ was finally learning a few offensive attacks whilst Wanda was still working on her all-round shield, which Peter was slinging webs at from all angles, hanging from the rafters and laughing each time the webs caught on Wanda’s clothes with a small whoosh and a splat. 

Bucky was just leading MJ through the last demonstration manoeuvre when the elevator doors opened, the noise nearly silent if not for the small swish of air. Bucky let MJ go through the manoeuvre but kept his eyes on the door, surprised when it revealed a lone Asgardian prince, in the same tattered clothing, each item in a shade of dark - sometimes almost black - green. 

He finished up and then backed away from MJ, giving her ample time to notice the new entrant. Wanda and Peter were not far behind, warily staring at the stranger. MJ and Peter seemed particularly tense - not surprisingly, they were New Yorkers, after all, and that was where Loki had done his damage. Maybe it was her power, maybe it was her lack of information on the so-called super-villain, but Wanda just stared the man down, pushing herself in front of her two teammates, ready to protect at a moment’s notice.

Bucky, on the other hand, was not worried at all.

“What are you doing here, Loki?” He sighed, hoping to urge on this conversation so he could leave and they could get on with the session. Despite his inklings, like Wanda, he was just as disconcerted by Peter and MJ’s tension at seeing the alien prince. 

“I wanted to see my ardent defender.” Loki raised an eyebrow, slowly appraising the room. “The man so certain in his assumptions.”

“Not certain,” Bucky argued, “but I could guess a few things.”

“And guess you did.” Loki approached, his stance as regal as his gait. He was every bit a future king but Bucky could tell that it took effort, that there was a force behind it that was as much painful as it was necessary. Loki was trying to live up to some sort of standard and Bucky could only guess at what it was.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to watch.”

“So you’ve said.” 

They stared each other down, neither willing to concede. Finally, Loki gave in, prying for more information. “You appear to think you know a lot, teacher. Occupational hazard?”

“More like personal experience. Look,” Bucky sighed, “I’m not trying to start a fight. Yes, I made assumptions. Am I going to voice any more of them? No. I’m not an Avenger, you deal with them. We never have to speak again.”

“Maybe I’m curious,” Loki replied cryptically, his eyes finally drawing to the rest of the group. “About all of you. Especially her,” he pointed at Wanda with a nimble finger, “the one touched by the mind stone.”

Wanda’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “The mind stone?” She asked, tumbling straight into Loki’s trap.

“Yes. Have you not heard of it? You surely have seen it.”

“I was created by the-“

“Wanda,” Bucky cut off sharply. “Loki, stop it.”

“I am merely asking questions.”

“You’re drawing things out of her that she doesn’t want to say. You got questions, you come to me.”

“But, I want-”

“Wanda,” Bucky warned. “Later. I promise.”

“Ah, a protector then. Let me guess, you were a warrior once. Maybe a second-in-command.”

“As I could guess you were too, despite your tricks. Don’t try and work around me, Loki, it won’t work.”

“Clever, I admit,” Loki hummed. “But I am the silver tongue. You cannot beat me.”

“I’ve had enough of _silver tongues_ ,” Bucky drawled, “I can see through them. So do your best but it won’t work. You can try but then I’ll do the same in return.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh? Okay then.” Bucky smiled, a sadistic, killer’s smile. It was as new as it should have been old, pulling his cheeks into a dangerous contortion as he bared his teeth. “You’re Loki, God of Mischief, second-in-command to Thor, always overshadowed by his so-called greatness. You tried to protect him but no one would see, you were too cunning for that. No, you did it from the shadows and never gained an ounce of respect. You probably got mad, sinister even, if your reputation is anything to go by. At some point, you got separated. Something bad happened to you. Torture? Rape? Mind control? Sound familiar? Thought so. You were someone else’s puppet and I’d guess that was how you turned up on Earth.” Bucky let the smile drop. “But that’s just a guess.”

Loki was silent.

Bucky, kindly, continued. “You can’t trick me, Loki. But I see more than you think. I can see the pain because I see it in me too. I know that something as sinister as you try to present doesn’t come from nowhere and I know Thor. He’s bright, endlessly so, he’s _revered_ , and I’d bet that’s not just on Earth. I’d guess that no matter how brilliant you are, it’s always him that gets looked at. Believe me, I’ve had it too. I was just lucky enough to not want to be in the spotlight-”

“Stop,” Loki ordered, the ’s’ like a snake’s, it’s poison flooding into its fangs. “You have made your point. I admit, I’m impressed. But if you think-“

“If I’m wrong, you can leave. If I’m not, you can stay and watch. We can talk. I know what it’s like to be seen as the villain, to become that very villain because you don’t know what else to be, if only for a few months. And if Asgardian ages are anything to go by, I’d guess that you’ve been doing it for a lot longer.”

Loki stayed still, lips pursed, shoulders tense, before he snapped a quiet, “I’ll stay.” Bucky knew perfectly well that Loki was not doing it for the reasons Bucky that wasn’t the point. Bucky had laid his trap and Loki had walked right into it.

“Back to it,” Bucky ordered, “MJ, help Peter out. Loki and I are gonna have a talk.” Before Loki could say otherwise, Bucky brought him to the bench at the side of the gym and sat down with him. They watched as MJ got her shield and assisted Peter from below, forcing Wanda to concentrate on hits from all angles. It was getting better and she could easily complete the all-round shield but she was having issues with holding it, especially once it had been hit. It was useless then; it would only take a double-fisted strike and she was vulnerable. But they had time to improve. Lots. With Wanda now in school, she’d been put to the side as an Avenger and Steve promised only to call her in if the world truly was in danger.

At least another ten minutes passed in silence, broken by the sounds of exertion on the other side of the room and the steady sound of breathing next to him.

“Feel like spilling your guts yet? I’ve heard I’m quite good at bringing that out of people.”

“Not good enough. You know enough already, James. I’m not here to be friends with the Midgardians, or anyone else beneath me.”

“It’s Bucky to most people. And you should be careful? I may be _beneath you_ but unlucky for you, Steve is the leader of the Avengers and I’m his boyfriend,” still sounded like a goddamn teenager saying that, “and that means I have quite a bit of say. I just got him to give you a chance and I can get him to take away. Look, I’m not going to push you into something you don’t want to do or say but I _will_ demand an ounce of respect for me and my team. And everyone else on this planet.” Bucky gave Loki a dull glare.

“I am a prince, and one of a species far stronger than yours.” 

“Power doesn’t mean you have to be a villain.” Bucky looked at his team for a moment, an idea coming to his mind. “Two of those kids were in New York when you attacked it, they’re scared. Either you prove them wrong today and take a turn your life around in a way that may just get it back on track or you walk away into god knows what. Stay the villain you seem so desperate to be.”

“You’re making it a binary choice. Life is not so simple.”

“Each path branches from those two paths.”

“But one does not automatically good and the other evil.”

“You’re clever, I’ll give you that.” Bucky smiled. “It’s your choice.”

Loki said nothing, weighing his options. “I am not here to prove a point to you. I am here to help my people. So I think I will take my leave now.”

Bucky sighed but didn’t say anything, his eyes drifting into the middle distance. “That’s fine, Loki, but if you ever change your mind, we’re here on Saturdays. In the Tower on Wednesday’s too, just get JARVIS to tell you where.”

“Why are you so desperate for me to join your little classes?”

“It’s not a class. It’s a team. And honestly, I see something in you that I see in myself and I don’t think I’d forgive myself if I didn’t give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot?”

“Helping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that there are comments in the comment section by me. These were transferred from the first fic, which these chapters were originally posted from. I absolutely love to keep a little record of all the great things you guys have said so forgive me the kind of...oddity XD
> 
> Ideas, critiques and general thoughts are so gratefully accepted; I love talking to you guys!
> 
> +I’ve realised that ‘guy’ isn’t much of a Bucky or 1930s term but it’s managed to slip by me until now so I just thought I’d point it out here that it is not accurate but to hell with it, it’s too late now.


	2. Intermission I: Peter and Wanda Go On Patrol (and make some reparations)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving away from Loki for a chapter. Working hard on the Loki arc right now to make it good for you guys and for it to fit seamlessly into the rest of the narrative but I’d absolutely love any feedback you have on how you would enjoy it most!
> 
> \+ this went through a lot of editing and changes because I wasn't happy with the original result so please inform me if there are any continuity errors here! It was a bit of a mess.
> 
> [DISCLAIMER: I do find some jokes for this on instagram and such. I usually edit them to make them my own but I have noticed a few more obvious references here. If you want me to give credit, I can give it a go. I have most the posts saved (although most of them are copied from films/TV themselves)]

All three teenagers were already in the conference room when their phones buzzed. Peter practically grappled for his phone as Wanda and MJ more calmly took out their own, frowning at the short message from Bucky, ten minutes after their session was supposed to start, simply stating: ‘can’t make it today.’ Ominous, short and cursory, it made the already antsy tensions in the room rise to eleven.

Peter stood and started to pace, his feet digging holes in the already worn carpet; it was the easiest way to drain himself of the anxiety that clutched his chest. Bucky hadn’t cancelled since before the pardoning and even then, it was rarely such a short message. 

Wanda bit her nails, sitting beside a preternaturally still MJ. “His freedom was supposed to make it better,” she said, wholly aware of the naivety of her words.

MJ’s eyes were shut as she answered. “Not how it works,” was all she said. She wiped her face in her hands and stared at the wall, seeking answers that were never going to be found there.

As always, they waited for a few minutes, just in case another message came through. It didn’t. “I’m heading home,” MJ said. “Wanda, you coming?”

“Think I might stay and hang out with Vision if that’s okay?”

“‘Course. See you at home?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there later.” Mustering a wan smile, Wanda waved as MJ left, messenger bag slung over her shoulder, a brand new sketchpad spilling out the edge. Peter’s head whipped up and he mumbled a quiet, “bye, MJ,” as he finally stopped in his tracks.

“So…” Wanda said, getting up and out of her chair, “I’m going to go, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Peter paused before surprise sprang onto his face. “Wait! No. I mean, just…wait a second.” Peter scrambled towards nothing in particular before collecting himself. “I…I might need your help.”

“Help with what?”

“Can we discuss it at my place?” Peter immediately blushed. “Not like that, just like-.”

“I know, Peter.”

“Good, good. I just-,” Peter sighed, heaving in a deep breath and tampering down the rising anxiety. Slowly, he mouthed, his face tilted towards the floor, “don’t want JARVIS to see.”

“Yeah,” Wanda said, feigning casualness, “we can go to yours. Though I’m not swinging with you so you’re gonna have to survive the subway.”

“I did for fifteen years,” Peter shrugged, even if his mouth curled slightly at the thought. 

All previous ideas pushed to the side, they left together, gathering their stuff and making their way to the subway. Wanda felt a little silly now that they hadn’t just travelled with MJ, seeing as they were both heading towards Queens, but there was nothing they could do about it now.

“So, you want to tell me what this is all about?” Wanda asked.

“Not in public.” Peter shook his head and eyed the other travellers warily but, well, it was New York, there wasn’t really room for paranoia when no one gave a second thought to the two worried-looking teenagers in the back of the car.

They were about halfway there when both their phones lit up; another message from Bucky.

===

 _(Instagram DM)_ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_2 active now._

_Today: 12:43pm_

Shit I’m so sorry guys. I realise that sounded really bad. I’m fine, I promise. My hand was forced and I had to cancel. Can’t apologise more. I’ll see you all on Saturday.

===

Disappointment rankled Peter. He didn’t _want_ to be disappointed but he was, if he was really going to be honest with himself. Even through the worst part of Bucky’s pardoning, he’d pushed to come into their sessions and now he was just letting it go for...well, Peter didn’t know. Maybe it was something really good, maybe something worth missing out on…

Ugh, fine, Peter was annoyed. There was just a fleeting thought, as much distasteful as it was irrational, that Bucky was going to move on without them. 

“He’s never cancelled before.” Wanda frowned, staring down at her phone. “Do you think it’s true? That his hand was forced, I mean.”

“I don’t know.”

“And to tell us after the session even began? That just doesn’t seem like him-“

“It’s probably fine,” Peter tried, but it only came out sounding dishonest. A few seconds passed, a putrid concoction of the rattling subway car, the smell of piss and the metal pole digging uncomfortably into his side, making his frown deepen. “Do you think he’s going to move on without us?” Peter finally sighed, the truth spilling like blood gushing from a wound.

“I’m not sure. But we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.”

“Is that really a good idea? I mean, he’s finally free. I don’t want to, you know, bring him down-“

“No. We are a team,” Wanda reassured. “He will stay, even if it takes some persuading.”

“I don’t want to force him-“

“He will stay because he wants to. We will just show him that.” 

Peter nodded, anxiety rattling his body. “Okay,” he whispered, even if he knew that Wanda was just being stubborn. If Bucky moved on then they’d just have to let him. Bucky had chosen to help them but he wasn’t obligated to and now that he was a free man, he didn’t even have a reason to.

It was...disappointing, to say the least. 

The rest of the journey was taken in silence but dragged on long enough that the tension slowly left, both of them moving on. There was no point dwelling on a thing they couldn’t fix, even if it would continue to pester the back of their minds for the rest of the week. But with that gone, thoughts of Peter’s problem came to the forefront. 

Neither addressed it until they were behind closed doors. Peter’s apartment was empty, with May at work, so they took their seat on the sofa, with Peter’s eyes on the door, just in case May made a surprise return (he really didn’t want her hearing about this).

“So, what’s the problem?” Wanda asked. 

“Um, so I may have gotten myself into some trouble?”

“What kind of trouble?”

“AsupervillainkindofwantsmedeadbecauseIinterferedwithhisplans,” Peter garbled.

“Come again?”

“Some super villain wants me dead because I kind of, you know, interfered with a few of his evil plans.” 

“Oh, for goodness sake.”

“It wasn’t my fault! I was just trying to help. And I know I’m not supposed to go after the big guys or anything, just be the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, but I wasn’t going to let this guy go when I could do something about it!”

“So what do you need?”

“He’s kind of promised to find me tonight and, well, he’s quite strong - well, he can control water but that’s it - and if you could just,” he made a few ‘zooming’ sounds as he flung his hands about, “that would be great.”

“So you want my help taking down an evil supervillain?”

“Pretty much.”

“And the mask is fully finished?”

“Ages ago.”

“What does this guy want?”

“Not too sure. I just stopped him from trying to destroy the entire New York sewage system. It was kinda disgusting.”

“What did he want with sewage?”

“To cause chaos? I don’t know! The guy’s a maniac and they never make sense.”

“And he’s definitely a super villain?”

“I would know what a super villain looked like, Wanda! Come on, this guy’s threatening to kill me. He’s evil.”

“Then I’m in. Probably.” They looked at each other, smiling and in exact synchronisation, stated, “don’t go in without a plan.”

“God, we make it sound like we’re in a cult,” Wanda laughed. 

“A good cult.”

Wanda frowned with levity. “There are no good cults.”

“Only good teams,” Peter beamed, moving to the kitchen. He scrounged through the fridge for a minute or two before he turned around and asked, “you want some lunch?”

“Are you cooking it?”

“Yes?”

“Then I’d rather not die.”

“I can cook!”

“No, you can’t.”

“It’s just sandwiches.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes. “What kind of sandwiches?”

“Ham?”

“Put the ingredients out. I’m making you a proper sandwich.” 

Peter acquiesced easily and ushered Wanda into the kitchen and instead of laying out the ingredients, gave her free roam of the fridge to give her the culinary freedom that usually ended in good food for Peter. Not that Wanda had cooked for them that often but there’d been a few times that they’d all gone to MJ and Wanda’s house after school and watched a film. Wanda tended to cook then, as to not put Angela out of her way. 

Not that they needed it, Wanda and Angela got on like a house on fire. They were both ardent cooks, although Wanda had a lot more time to experiment; they both spoke French (not perfectly, but some); and Wanda was the politest tenant they’d ever had. She went out of her way to make a good impression and the Sokovian culture transfer ended up in a lot of great cooking and cleaning. Wanda was ideal and Angela wasn’t going to let anyone forget it. 

Even MJ, which was possibly a worrying eventuality. Peter had already told MJ she should bring it up in their ‘talks’ but she didn’t want to. She liked Wanda, they were close friends, and she didn’t want to throw a wedge in it just because her own mother couldn’t stop raving about how great her friend was. And anyway, it wasn’t like MJ was _disliked_. Her mum was still proud of everything she’d accomplished, it just tended to be a lot less vocal. 

Angela seemed to care a lot more about what happened at home than what happened in school. 

Pushing his thoughts to one side, Peter sat at the kitchen island and swung lazily on the high chairs until Wanda was done. It was amazing to watch, the small fizzle of magic disrupting the quiet as she used it to grab ingredients. Peter didn’t even have to show her where most of them were, she just searched for them in her mind ( _so cool_ ). Each time, she’d hold it up and raise an eyebrow, asking a silent ‘can I use this’, to which Peter would nod, again and again, saying “it’s fine, Wanda. May won’t mind. She might even fall in love with you if you make some extra.”

So make some extra she did.

In the end, they ended up with a large pile of sandwiches, made from a fresh baguette that Peter didn’t know they had (and neither did May, he would bet) with a melted cheese filling and finely-sliced ham, alongside other ingredients that Peter wasn’t even going to try and identify, safe in the knowledge that it tasted amazing so who cared.

Finally, Wanda took the seat next to Peter and dug in herself, smiling at her own handiwork. “So,” she said, “we need a plan.”

Around a mouthful of sandwich, Peter muffled, “yeah but really, this guy shouldn’t be too hard to-“

“I can not hear a word you’re saying.”

Glaring, Peter chewed and swallowed. “You know exactly what I was saying.”

“But it was disgusting so I got you to stop.”

Peter rolled his eyes, mirth quirking the edges of his lips, as he continued. “So, yeah, I don’t think it will be hard. Just go in and tie him up, call the police. It’s pretty obvious that he’s a villain guy, or at least a vigilante, so they’ll take him in.”

“That’s your plan? Why do you even need my help?” Wanda drawled.

“Okay so maybe not that easy. But really, I think just using everything on him will be the best.”

“So we’re doing a Steve?” Wanda asked sceptically. 

“Maybe.”

“You know how much Bucky hates us doing a Steve.”

“He does a Steve all the time!”

“That’s because he’s an idiot.”

Peter groaned, taking another vicious bite of his sandwich, his cheeks filling out like a hamster's as he tried to look menacing. He looked like a squirrel. “Bucky is going to kill us when he finds out, won’t he?”

“ _If_ he finds out.”

“If…yeah, if sounds good,” Peter breathed. “You definitely in then?”

“I’ve been waiting far too long to put on that mask, now I’ve finally been presented the opportunity.” Wanda’s grin would have been terrifying if it wasn’t so promising.

~*~

They went on patrol first, seeing as they had to wait until midnight to take the guy down and the sun was setting by five o’clock these days (a fact that, for some reason, never failed to make Wanda deeply uncomfortable. Peter, on the other hand, relished in sitting on his computer in the darkness and now, having longer hours for patrol). 

Wanda donned her mask with a giddy smile as Peter spent a few too many minutes trying to get the Spiderman getup on as his foot got stuck on the Lycra-like material, causing the material to stretch to a level that Peter would have thought would be irredeemable. When he came out sporting a deep, red blush, Wanda just laughed. 

Wanda had gone further than just the mask; somehow, despite having never left the apartment, she’d gotten fully changed (“it’s an illusion, Peter, and I’ll take it off for the final fight.”) and he had to admit, it looked amazing. The long, red trench coat over the all-black combo of a t-shirt and leggings, moulded together to almost look like the Black Widow’s catsuit, covered by a subtle waistcoat that was a dark enough red that it almost didn’t stand out against the black underneath, was almost captivating. It was subtle, stealthy and made her newly-dyed, red hair look like fire. 

“You ready?” She asked. 

“Of course. You gonna be able to fly around?”

“Yes. That’s what the mask is for, isn’t it?”

Peter grinned, the adrenaline already pounding through his system. “Then let’s go.” 

Clambering out the window, Peter slung a web at the building opposite and swung, the wind whipping through his hair, a giddy laugh spilling from his mouth. Wanda followed, her hands held like Iron Man’s gauntlets as she sped alongside him, leaving a trial of red in her wake, like a tiny aeroplane, leaving its tracks across the sky. Not enough to be followed, of course, but magnificent to watch either way. 

They followed Peter’s usual route, though they were getting through a lot more people. With Wanda’s powers, a lot of people were running scared immediately (which Peter was only _slightly_ bitter about. Did he not look scary? Okay, maybe not, and he definitely didn’t look like Wanda, who’s hair floated around her like a devilish halo, her eyes blazing red through the mask. All an act, of course, but she seemed to enjoy playing it). 

People stared in fascination as they zipped by and a few even laughed at his quips for once (maybe because Wanda would glare at them if they didn’t). Although, Peter was a little disappointed that no one was asking him to do tricks today (probably, also, because Wanda was glaring at them). Overall, it was a fun night, though, and they were both giggling as they shot across rooftops, the clock ticking towards midnight. 

Finally, they landed on a rooftop not far from the river, where the evil villain (hydro-something-or-other; Peter had been talking too much to actually hear what the guy said) was planning to bring in a boat full of weapons (probably) and use them on innocent civilians (probably). Peter honestly wasn’t the best tactician. Presumably, the man was going to find Peter _after_ the whole scheme so Peter decided it would be best to just find the man first. Element of surprise and all that. 

Wanda landed neatly in a seated position, feet dangling over the edge as her nails click-clacked on the stone. Peter’s landing was far more fumbling but he covered it up by leaping over the edge and using his webs to land in the same position as Wanda. It was stupid, unnecessary but garnered a smile. 

In the silence, Peter burrowed into the backpack he’s stashed on this roof for this very reason and dug his phone out. He checked all the things he had to (police report, Aunt May’s texts…etc, etc) but ended up mindlessly scrolling through his social media’s to pass the time before the shipment. Wanda had opted to do the same. He was scrolling through Instagram when he spotted one of Bucky’s old posts from two days ago (what was up with Instagram’s algorithm?)

===

**jbb.barnes.official**

(Bucky is smiling widely at the camera, whilst Steve is seemingly tripping over in the background)

Liked by **ScarletWitchOfficial** and 32,485 others

 **jbb.barnes.official** Good news for all you clumsy people out there, Steve is clumsy too!

===

Peter snorted a laugh. 

“What’s that?” Wanda asked as she leaned over his shoulder. She huffed a laugh. “Oh yeah, saw that. Funny.” She didn’t sound all that pleased. 

“Are you still annoyed?”

“Not really annoyed, just…confused. Going to ask him on Saturday about it.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed. “I-“ Peter eyed Wanda out of the corner of his eye. “Well, it is basically a session,” Peter mumbled under his breath. Heaving in a deep breath, he said on the outbreath, “I’m worried about something else.”

“What is it?”

“Bucky and Loki. Bucky’s clearly trying to add him onto the team but you saw what he did in New York-.”

“Bucky wouldn’t do that if you asked him not to, or if he didn’t have a reason to. Look, I’m not sure about the guy either but I trust Bucky, I really do.”

“I guess. It’s just, I was there, you know? I remember watching it on the TV and May being terrified because…well, she knew people in Manhattan and-,” Peter cut himself off. “I just don’t know whether I can ever be on a team with a guy that did that.”

“Then we’ll talk to Bucky on Saturday.” Peter nodded, looking relieved. Wanda quickly glanced at her phone, before a smile perforated her face. “Now, aren’t we supposed to be intercepting a super-villain?”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. “Let’s go.”

They shot across the roofs again, landing by the river in silence, Wanda’s magic turning an inky black as to not be seen in the darkness. “Since when could you do that?” Peter hissed, looking awed at the oil-like substance that they were wading in.

“Been practising. I can make it rainbow too if I want.”

“Does it take much focus?”

“A bit but it’ll be fine without,” she motioned towards her body, where Peter noticed she’d let go of the illusion, now just dressed in all black, making her impossible to spot; even Peter was struggling from less than a metre away and he had enhanced vision. 

“Wow,” he breathed. She smiled, her white teeth a smudge of grey on the black facade. 

They waited barely a minute before the men came into view, crooks by the looks of things, all stereotypically gruff and scruffy-looking, although they all had suits on. Mafia? Possibly. (Next time, Peter would probably have to do some actual research). 

They watched as the groupies trudged towards the boat, smirking, only to create a circle around it, hands gripping their guns tightly, as if they knew it was an ambush. Oh God, Peter thought, they probably did know. The guy wasn’t planning on finding Peter after at all (no wonder, seeing as Peter rarely patrolled past midnight. He had school, you know?)

Well, at least Steve tactics would still work. That was the best thing about a Steve, it was adaptable.

Then super-evil-villain-guy finally arrived. And god, he really did look stupid. With a bright blue, Lycra costume with the deepest v-neck ever seen to man and a long fluorescent, yellow cape, the man looked like he’d walked straight out of a 70s comic-book. Wanda and Peter looked at each other, silent giggles wracking their bodies as they tried to tamper their smiles into menacing glares. It didn’t quite work, the ensuing facial expression something closer to a clown’s than a superhero’s. Still, they hadn’t been spotted yet, so it wouldn’t - probably - be anything to worry about. 

The guy strode with the exact amount of inflated ego you’d expect, his arms open wide as he took in his prize. “Ah,” he declared, “what a beautiful shipment.” Was this guy _trying_ to be a stereotype? “I assume everything is ready.”

“Yes, sir. We can start unloading it now.”

“Oh no, we have to wait for our esteemed guest. We can finally show him how powerful Hydro-nator really is!” Okay so, bad name and a weird villain 3rd-person complex. Not too difficult to deal with. 

“So, when are we Steve-ing it?” Wanda whispered, grinning. 

“The present is as good a time as any. You’ll be able to get rid of the lackeys?”

“Of course.” They were the only threat to Peter and only if he’d been alone. With Wanda’s help, they’d be defenceless in seconds and he just had to web up Hydro-nator-dude and be done with it.

“Let’s go then.” Peter swung off the roof, his feet meeting evil-guy’s chest with a heavy thud as a flare of red had the lackey’s weapons flying from their hands and to the nearby roof, where they’d eventually be picked up by worried police officers. Soon after, Wanda floated down, encased in red as she shot beams of red plasma at the unsuspecting henchmen.

“Cheats!” Hydro-nator declared. “You requested backup!”

“So did you,” Peter drawled before using a spinning kick to send the man sprawling. Back to the first lesson: what to use to his advantage from here. The guy’s power was controlling water, to some extent or another, so he had to worry about how well his webs would work with water which meant he was back to the basics of sparring. The guy was bald and his suit tight so he couldn’t grab anything on him but he was big and much slower than Peter, giving him the advantage he needed. 

Immediately, Peter began to pummel hits, quick and unstoppable, before the guy could even raise his hands to send the river over the bank. Even when he grabbed Peter’s ankle from underneath him and sent him flying towards the wall, he couldn’t battle Wanda’s magic as he tried to drag the water up. Wanda was stronger, the water barely rebelling against the floods of red.

The lackeys, Peter noticed, were all on the floor, unconscious. 

Scrambling to his feet, Peter sent one more well-placed kick to the guys head and knocked him straight out. “Easy-peasy,” he said with a cheesy grin, clapping his hands. “Now for the fun part.”

Which meant tying the evil guys up to poles and leaving quirky sticky-notes on their foreheads declaring things, ranging from as simple as ‘controls water but too stupid to use it as his first attack’ to ‘looks a bit dim, I wouldn’t worry about it.’

Overall, it was a quick job, sped up ten times by his help. They were both grinning for it. “Bucky can’t be too mad, right?” Peter asked. “We did great.”

“Oh he’ll be mad but he’ll be proud too.”

~*~

They sat on a rooftop far away from the police sirens, back in their original position, shovelling burritos into their mouths, juice running down Peter’s hands and chin whilst Wanda was completely spotless (magic was cheating, Peter complained silently). Wanda looked relaxed, leaning back on one palm, head tilted up at the sky as she watched the stars twinkle against the endlessly deep sky. It was calm, quiet as New York ever was, like a bubble that could never be popped.

Except Peter had already popped the bubble in his mind, the knife of anxiety puncturing the fragile peace with poorly-timed thoughts. Peter buried a lot; it may have been one of his worse traits. To keep the smile on his face, the lightness in his step, he buried the pain and the worry and the anxiety deep down, only dredging it up in the deep of night when he knew the darkness masked his features. When he was younger, he used to think he could draw power from the stars. 

Well, it was pitch black and technically - kinda - they were still in a ‘session’, so what would be the worst that happened if he finally asked? Probably everything, but maybe that was just the story of Peter’s life.

“Do you really hate Mr Stark?” He finally whispered, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed, a faint line creasing in between them as she took her time to answer. This was delicate, she understood, and maybe their one point of contention. Peter revered Tony, in a way that anyone did of their mentor, the same way they all did of Bucky. But unlike Bucky, Peter had revered Tony for _years_. His life ambitions were to live up to the standard his mentor set, from the very first time he saw him on TV as a child, fresh out of Afghanistan and promising a brighter future, telling the world that, yes, he was Iron Man and he wasn’t ashamed of that. Honest, brave, brighter than the world. Or that was how Peter saw him, at least, among others.

Wanda thought of her parents' bodies buried under rubble and the Stark logo staring her in the face. She thought of how Tony had created Ultron, but then also how he had helped make Vision; how Ultron had wanted Tony to die but he had been wrong about so much else so what was she to say that was the one time he wasn’t? She thought of the man who sold weapons for years without remorse, partying away the guilt, buried under the weight of his own addictions.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, letting her voice be carried by the quiet whisper of the wind. 

In the name of honesty, in the name of everything Bucky had taught him, Peter pushed on. “I just- god, this is going to sound awful,” he whispered hoarsely, “can you really hate him? I know- I know his weapons killed your family and I’m so sorry. I know Ultron was the reason your brother died but…was it really him?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asked calmly, swallowing down the anger and the pride and the vicious words that she wanted to spit like venom, replacing it instead with a preternatural stillness.

“I don’t think Mr Stark deserves the things you place on him, is all. I know he made the weapons but he wasn’t the one who was distributing them. He didn’t know. He was doing…other stuff.”

“So neglect is better than intent?”

“In some ways…but it’s not just that. After. He’s atoned for so much, he made up for it, and I know Ultron was a blunder but…if you had the power to get rid of evil, wouldn’t you do it?”

“Not like that. Ultron, Project Insight, Hydra, it’s all the same.”

“But didn’t you work for Hydra?” Peter whispered, so quiet that Wanda had to strain to hear him. 

Wanda sighed, gritting her teeth. “I did, I regret it, but now I know why they’re bad. I’ve _experienced_ it.”

“Hasn’t Mr Stark too? He regrets it, you know, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And he’s making amends, same as you. Same as _Bucky_.”

Wanda stilled before slowly peeling herself upwards, hands falling into her lap as she stared at them. “I know it’s illogical,” she explained, “but every time I see him, I see that bomb. It was right in front of me. My brother and I were only ten. It was terrifying. And I want to forgive him, I really do, I just-.”

“You’re scared.”

“Yeah,” she admitted weakly. “I think I am. I’m worried that if I see him, I’ll just start shouting and won’t be able to stop. I’m scared that…I’m scared that if I confront him, I’ll realise I’m wrong.”

“You can’t hold it off forever.”

“You’re right.” She sighed, eyes trailing back up the stars, counting the small specks not clouded by New York’s blazing lights. “I’ll talk to him. I’m a part of the Avengers, I will need to trust him one day.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you.”

Peter smiled, something sad and hopeful twisting his lips. “Then I’m glad I could help.”

“You always help, Peter, you know that. You read the letter, didn’t you?”

“I did.” He nodded, wringing his hands together. “I never properly thanked you for that. It was…I’ve never received anything like that before.”

“Then I’ll make sure to write you more.”

Maybe Peter’s life was on the up after all. Maybe it wasn’t full of terror and death and panic. Maybe there was more to this life, more to being Spiderman than this. Maybe this was what it was to have a team, to have someone trust you so intrinsically that they would face their fears for you. 

They stared at each other for a while, the whole world dissipating around them, before Wanda finally broke the silence as she whispered, “so, when are you and MJ going to get together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is officially an abstract noun now and there’s nothing you - or he - can do about it. Thanks for all the comments, everyone :D
> 
> (to do a) Steve (noun): to acknowledge that the best plan is to have no plan at all and go in with all guns blazing.  
> E.g to do a Steve would be a stupid idea because it would likely get you killed.
> 
> And yes, the super-evil-villain-guy is, in fact, wearing the Nomad costume that Steve Rogers wore in the 70s. A beautiful disgrace.


	3. Loki II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my Loki ideas come from 'Lines in Sand; Lines in Stone' which is honestly a perfect fic (BigSciencyBrain is amazing) so kudos to that. Most of the other ideas came from other WinterFrostShield fics such as Deep Freeze or LokiSteve fics like A Place To Put My Heartache (across six christmases), so seriously, check them out, I highly recommend. Seriously the Loki+Stucky rabbit hole is one you *definitely* want to fall into.
> 
> WARNING: UPDATED TAGS

Loki woke up feeling sick. His head was spinning and his stomach turned, unaided by the sudden flash of bright light. “Hm-?“

“I am sorry but Sir ordered that you be woken at five o’clock every morning with bright lights. He also requested loud music but it has been requested by other Avengers that it may be too harsh a punishment.”

Loki remained silent throughout the short spiel, watching the white ceiling with distaste. So this was the marvellous AI Stark had invented? Underwhelming at best. Seemed fairly simple in design, if far above what most of humanity could produce.

Of course, there was a certain beauty in Midgardian culture. In its complex simplicity, it created exactly the chaos Loki thrived on. Not that he’d admit it. Midgard was a planet he was made to hate and if nothing else, Loki stuck by his principles. 

Groaning quietly, as to not let the inquisitive AI overhear, he pulled himself out of bed, making each movement fluid and lithe, not giving away the bone-deep exhaustion that could only be a result of a bad night’s sleep on top of an early wake-up call.

Loki was already in hell.

But now that he was up, he would start on his day, 5am or not. He followed a simplistic human routine, trying to mimic what little he knew of modern Midgard. It had changed plenty since he and Thor were here together, even since Loki last visited in passing (sometime, he thought, before this country America even existed in its current form). 

He had a shower first, putting careful effort into his hair to combine Asgardian and Midgardian fashions, even if it was made that bit harder with the lack of magic. Of course, he could use magic, but he knew - both from practice and theory - that the only way to truly blend in with a crowd was to become one of them. If not, it would make itself clear soon enough. It would be in the small details: your hair styled just a little out of date, your words twisted with new meaning, gestures that varied from place to place. 

So he washed his face, brushed his teeth and scrounged around his bedroom to find clothes. Stark had given him none and he’d taken none with him from Asgard so he was stuck with what he wore yesterday, tattered and awful as they were. First item on the agenda: a shopping trip.

There was no need to sneak out of the Tower. As far as he knew, he was allowed out whenever he wanted. Granted, that would probably change if he caused the Avengers any ‘distress’ but he doubted this shopping trip was going to do more than cause a little confusion. 

He was just glad to see that New York held some of Midgard’s finest tailors. He bought an eclectic mix of suits, pyjamas and clothes that would do well to blend him into society. It was young adult fashion, he’d learnt, but knew that it was just items that adults were too scared to try. Midgardians were far too scared about things such as gender, sexuality and groupings.

Then again, so were Asgardians, maybe even more so, but Loki wasn’t Asgardian, was he?

Realising that he hadn’t explored the other possibilities in far too long, Loki returned to purchase a few female items too. 

Now, he had just about everything under the sun, from gothic to pastel, he’d picked up whatever he fancied, and strayed away from his usual green fixation (another feature of Asgardian he wasn’t fussed with keeping to. They did so like to have _personal colours_ ). Loki didn’t want to explain why he’d still stayed away from red and even silver, if it was just the right shade.

He dragged the bags home, arms feeling uncomfortable with the stretch rather than the weight, and put them away neatly in the dresser. Despite the few personal touches he’d brought from his dimensional pockets, the room looked scarcely different to how it had looked before he’d taken it as his residence. He was neat, tidy to perfection, to the extent that he had already scrubbed away the personality from the space, but that was just how his life was.

It was much easier to start over when you never really had anything at all.

Giving little away on his face, he moved into the living area, perching on the sofa as he eyed the TV with disinterest. He knew what it did (he wasn’t an idiot) but he wasn’t too sure about Midgardian media. It seemed like a lose-lose situation. Either he hated it and it wasn’t worth watching or he _liked_ it and then he had to admit that Midgard wasn’t a godforsaken planet (that maybe, possibly, had some very nice clothes. Oh for fuck’s sa-

He didn’t turn on the TV.

Instead, he grabbed the laptop off the coffee table and set to work on getting to know the Avengers better.

~*~

On Sunday, his research turned to Bucky. Illusive, irritating and irrationally trustworthy Bucky. Bucky, who he wanted to hate, who he really wanted to get to know and who he would kill if it wasn’t for the whole Avengers reparations situation. 

Laptop on his lap and JARVIS already at his beck and call (not a difficult AI to infiltrate, though it did put up some interesting challenges. It simply just wasn’t made to defend against Loki’s ‘magic’), he had everything he needed to pull up the man’s background.

It barely even took a few clicks.

Newsreels held his name, from around a year back to now. Bucky Barnes, alias Winter Soldier, now a free man, Captain America’s best friend from childhood, turned into a dark assassin by a Soviet/Nazi regime. A man of contradictions, opinion on him split in half. Kind, trustworthy, loyal Bucky; conniving, relentless, merciless Asset. Loki knew that a truth like that could only come from two lies. Bucky couldn’t have been either, only a combination of both. His past had been made up of two paths, merging into the one he walked today.

He was Bucky Barnes: loyal, relentless, _strong_ , sometimes even emotionless. He was a broken man but a free man. 

There was nothing online about his team, though.

Of course, Loki had already found out enough about Wanda Maximoff. Another experiment of the stones, giving her powers no Midgardian had the right to hold. The other two, though, remained unknown. From his search, Loki suspected that the young boy was Spiderman, though he could not find any other name for the superhero, although he’d heard them call him Peter. And then ‘MJ’, who seemed to be nothing special. No enhancements, no aged wisdom, no history in the superhero trade. Just a teenager.

Loki was confused, to say the least.

She gave them no tactical high ground, although maybe a moral one. Maybe that was it. In battle, she could be used against lesser villains to garner sympathy and delay attack. It was a risky move, though, and not one the Avengers - or anyone affiliated with them - would normally take. Loki reminded himself, though, that this was the Winter Soldier’s team and from what he’d gleaned from the leaked Hydra files, the Winter Soldier would have done a lot worse for a lot less.

The team was an eclectic mix of seemingly ill-fitting members. Not dislike the Avengers, really.

But being a good guy didn’t have to make you tactically unsound, Loki thought distastefully, and wished there was some way he could drill that into their thick skulls. It only made them far too easy to defeat (and much harder to purposefully lose against). 

Pursuing the Winter Soldier lead further, Loki brought up a plethora of files. From status reports to videotapes of gruesome acts done on an unwilling subject, they went on and on. Seventy years of medical and physical torture on top of brainwashing, reality alteration and other mind tactics that even Loki had found himself too sick to use on occasion.

Loki had had his mind invaded before, he knew what it felt like. Hadn’t stopped him from doing it to the two Midgardians a few years ago but they still had their minds, they were just pliable. Bucky had lost his mind, his reality, his sense of person and his sense of control. 

Loki took one at a time, giving it back as soon as his purpose was deemed complete. Bucky’s masters had completed seventy years of mindless actions that Midgardian’s didn’t understand. 

But maybe that was just Loki’s excuse...

For the first time in 4 years, Loki felt the smallest inkling of guilt. Staring at the files, the realisation seemed to dig into his chest, burrowing there, the darkness spreading into a splattering of ink until he couldn’t help but feel its tug. Because who was he kidding? He’d done just as Hydra had done. He’d done just as Thanos had almost done to him. 

His head twitched, memories coming up unbidden. Thanos over him, sceptre in hand, the metal claw touching his head as his world blew up blue. The pliability, the warped perception, the gift of everything he’d ever wanted: to rule, to be worthy, to escape his godforsaken family and all they stood for. 

He hadn’t known what he was up against.

He’d thought Midgardian’s were still so un-evolved but he’d been wrong. They’d moved so far, but he couldn’t see that, all he could see was blue-

(But he’d fought it. He had! He’d put failsafes and made stupid, risky moves and-)

He was tired.

He slammed his laptop shut and rested his head on the back of the sofa, blinking away the images that kept scrolling and scrolling and scrolling-

Loki could see why Bucky understood now, anyway. Or _thought_ he did. He was wrong on many accounts. Loki had been tortured but not for lack of compliance, only for fun. His pain came before Thanos. His pain came from the void, the darkness, his lungs straining for something, anything, something that didn’t burn-

He was manipulated but with his own greed, not his fear. He’d been ignorant, to an extent that Loki would never admit aloud. But it was too late to go back now. He’d become the villain he’d so wanted not to be. 

He’d become what his father told him to be - merciless, strong, a warrior - and been scorned for it. He’d tried to kill his own race for his father and been scorned for it. He’d tried to be knowledgeable for his father and been scorned for it-

It wasn’t fair.

Loki bit back a sob, not letting it show on his face. 

It wasn’t fair.

Happy, ignorant Thor, always coming out on top no matter how much of a loafing idiot he acted. And Loki didn’t get one bit of praise for cleaning up his goddamn messes (and yes, maybe he did start some of them, but you could only manipulate people into doing things they already wanted to do. Words were not a miracle, only a push in the desired direction; _excuses, excuses!_ ). 

Loki did not believe he was good but more than anything, he didn’t want to be evil.

And maybe Bucky understood that.

_(But you don’t deserve that)._

~*~

Loki’s attempts to spy on the group on Wednesday failed the moment he realised that they weren’t going to meet at all. Pushing his plans to Saturday, he continued his usual routine, refusing to leave his apartment unless it was on his own terms - usually exploring the city - as to not run into anyone who, more likely than not, didn’t want him there. 

He changed the routine on Saturday, waking early and eating a hearty breakfast of Midgardian foods he’d discovered: halloumi, bacon, avocado, spinach (a real hipster breakfast). Afterwards, he got ready as quickly as he could and went up to the top of the tower, where the common room housed whatever Avengers were wandering about on any given day.

He had exactly the targets he wanted. Captain Rogers and the android-creature Vision were talking about Midgardian history on the sofas, some bland-looking reality-TV-show playing in the background. Loki didn’t try and hide his presence, taking his place on one of the adjacent sofas, placing his feet up on the coffee table in one smooth movement.

Captain Rogers cut off his sentence halfway. “Loki,” he intoned, nodding. 

“Captain,” he drawled easily, digging straight into the proud part of the Captain that wouldn’t have his title so lazily glossed over. 

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing, Captain. I was merely feeling bored so decided to come see what the Avengers did with their time off.”

“Well, you won’t find anyone else around. They all have…things to do.”

“But you don’t?”

“I’m waiting for Buck-,” Steve cut himself off, realising his mistake. Loki was a master at drawing out answers and using them to his advantage. If anything, though, it meant he was an _excellent_ listener. 

“So he is teaching today?” 

“Yes,” The Captain answered, clipped and brusque. 

“Did you know he invited me?”

The Captain swallowed, trapped in a corner. “No.”

“He seems to think we are kindred spirits.”

“He’s kind like that.”

“Do you not agree?”

“Of course no- Loki, look, we’ve accepted you here because you promised to help but that doesn’t mean we have to let you. Stop trying to pry or you’re out.”

“You’re clever, Captain, I have to admit.” He would have thought the Captain would have been closer to Thor but despite his fumbling, he knew when Loki was trying to draw something out of him. Maybe it was the distinct lack of loyalty he had to Loki (something that had had tripped Thor up time and time again). Maybe it was just a lesson he’d learnt over the years.

The Captain hummed but turned back to Vision, hesitantly continuing their previous topic. The android’s eyes still darted to Loki often, scanning for answers but seemingly coming up with few. 

Loki was a wildcard, he knew, that was how he’d designed it to be.

With very little information gleaned apart from the fact that Steve and Bucky likely lived together (though he could have guessed that) and that the Captain wasn’t going to be so easily manipulated as Loki had hoped. It was possible, clearly, but it wouldn’t take the lazy approach he’d tried today. 

(Maybe, one day, Loki would learn that he did not have to manipulate anyone at all).

Returning to his quarters, Loki infiltrated JARVIS and brought the security screens of the gym up. Empty. “JARVIS? Bring me up the security tapes of Bucky Barnes at present.”

“Certainly, Sir.” JARVIS did, in fact, think Loki was Stark. It proved finding things a lot easier and certainly made the AI a lot more polite (no more 5am wake up calls, for one). 

The image JARVIS brought up was that of a small room (in Asgardian terms) with a long conference table and a whiteboard on one end. Other than that, the walls were daringly blank, not an art piece in sight, and the lights cast an almost blue-tinted light onto the room. It was clinical and Midgardian; Loki was not surprised.

It was still early so it was only Bucky at the moment, who had brought his tablet out and was clicking slowly about the screen. The camera angles didn’t give him a brilliant view of what was on the screen but from his posture, Loki gleaned it unimportant. Instead, he waited, patiently watching Bucky’s tics as the clock ticked towards twelve.

The Spider-kid was there next, bounding in the door, looking harried as he threw his backpack onto the floor. “Am I on time?” He panted, looking around the almost empty room. “No way!” He shouted. “Am I the first?”

“Yeah, Pete. You run late?”

“I kinda accidentally woke up about fifteen minutes ago.”

“It’s 12 o’clock?” 

“I was tired!”

“You were patrolling late?”

“…possibly.”

Bucky sighed. “I thought we agreed that if you were going to patrol, you’d try and cut it off at twelve.”

“I know,” Peter sighed, “but there were people who need my help and-“

“It’s fine. I just don’t want your patrols affecting your life.”

“Yeah…” Peter trailed off, biting his lip. “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe before the others get here.”

“Go ahead.”

“It’s about Loki.”

“What about him?”

“I just…you’re doing with him what you did with us before we came on the team. You know, the talking and the persuading. I don’t know! Just…I don’t think I could have Loki in the team. I just don’t.”

“Why not? Is it because of the Chitauri attack?”

“Kinda. It’s just…I was ten, I was still young and it didn’t even hit Queens but my Aunt had friends in Manhattan and they were in the chaos and…okay, this might sound harsh, but isn’t Loki evil?”

“Pete, I know…” Bucky trailed off, carefully formulating his words. “I just wanted to give him a chance and he hasn’t even taken it so I don’t think you need to worry yet. Steve offered me a chance after the Helicarriers. Clint offered Wanda a chance. The Avengers are a group of people who got second chances. Tony, Natasha, Bruce. Even Steve, in some ways. I know what he did to you was personal. That’s awful, I know it is, but wouldn’t it be worth helping him if you could be a part of the reason he changed?”

Peter paused for a minute, clearly deliberating something. “You know I talked to Wanda about Tony on Wednesday?” He said, in an apparent non-sequitur.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I said…she should offer him a second chance because he was trying to fix his mistakes from before. So I know _why_. But…Loki tried to take over the entire planet.”

“I’m not sure he did,” Bucky admitted, “I’ve been looking into it. The Loki I saw last week against the Loki I saw in those videos, there’s a remarkable difference.”

“But-“

“I think you’re right, Peter,” Bucky said seriously, “but I also don’t want to take away the only offer this guy has at a second chance. The Avengers may be allowing him to make ‘reparations’ but none of them are ready to give him a real chance. I am. But that doesn’t mean he has to be a part of our team. There are plenty of days in the week. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll sort that out.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you,” Peter whispered. 

“It’s no problem.”

Loki stared at the screen, eyes wide, hands minutely trembling. He tried to tamper it down but for the first time in so long, he couldn’t quite do it. He couldn’t even tell what he was feeling. Guilt? Fear? Longing? Hope? It was all jumbled up in a panicked ball in his chest. 

The child was right. Loki was evil and Peter didn’t even know the half of it. Loki didn’t have an excuse. He wasn’t manipulated like Bucky, or young like Wanda. He hadn’t even changed his ways like Tony. 

He was still the villain of the story. 

Children on Midgard were just as scared of him as the Asgardian children were of Frost Giants. It wasn’t just Loki’s race that made him their nightmare, it was just him. Loki was evil. It was that simple.

Tears sprung unbidden to his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to be the villain, not in a million years. He’d wanted to be worthy of something. Anything. He’d just wanted to live up to his father’s standards, be an equal to Thor, prove he was _better_ than Thor. But all it had landed him was a black heart and a perpetually manipulative mind.

He wasn’t the god of mischief and mayhem, he was the god of darkness and death. Like his sister. Maybe he’d taken her place. 

He was-

He wasn’t-

Loki clenched his fists on his lap and withhold the urge to punch something as a thought sprung to mind. He didn’t have access to the private gyms, only the ones in the basement, which he knew for a fact wasn’t occupied yet, if the ‘team’ was upstairs. He had at least twenty minutes to punch the crap out of some equipment, Asgardian style, before he went up and wallowed in his newfound pain.

(Where did this come from? Why now? _...but it was far easier to be the villain when you had a goal; it was a lot harder to bear when you had none at all_ ). 

He stood up with renewed vigour and changed into something more suitable. Instead of the usual layers he hid behind, he had only the bare necessities: a thin, tight t-shirt and Lycra leggings. It was revealing, vulnerable. If this was what they wanted from him, so be it, he’d show it to them.

He knew he was a villain now, why not show it?

(Poisoned by bitterness, his mother would say, or cursed by difference. Both sounded as bad as the other, Loki thought). 

The elevator felt too slow, especially as the doors slid open, the second feeling like an eternity, until finally, he had a good view of the gym. It was wide, tall and cavernous; sound echoed off its walls in a way that made it feel both smaller and so much larger. Loki’s eyes slid over it, details pouring like water before his eyes, his mind not quite catching on anything. He was blinded by red and soon his feet worked on their own, placing him in front of the punching bags on the corner and then he let go.

He went berserk.

He flew everything he could at the machines, magic, power, anger, until each one had been ripped off the floor or ceiling or wall. He went from machine to machine, tearing the place to pieces, lost in the fray of his own mind.

He was caught in two minds. One, a silent viper that told him twisted his arm behind his back and told him the only way to get out of it was to be the very villain he’d wanted to purge his planet of. The other, a guilt-ridden puppet, lost in the darkness of his own mind, so far gone from who he used to be that he wasn’t even sure if he could be that again. 

He was tormented by his history, unable to understand his own actions. How could he have believed he was really in the right? Did he really believe that invading Earth was okay? Was it okay to tell yourself to do something in the knowledge that if you didn’t, someone else would have taken your place? Was it okay to torture for your goals? Was it okay to kill thousands, maybe even more, just to please your own father?

Was power anything but a curse? 

He ravaged the gym and left it - and himself - in tatters. He heaved in breaths, even though he wasn’t even winded, and collapsed to the floor. He was shaking, he knew that, but he didn’t feel the tears on his cheeks until they dripped into his lips, his tongue finding the salty water as he tried to balm his cracked lips. 

He clutched his hair in his hands and finally let everything go.

His enemies could kill him, once and for all. He could give himself over in indignity; the only fitting end for someone like him. He’d lived a life of pride, of envy and of power. Now he was willing to let it all go, every single piece, if he didn’t feel whatever it was inside his head, the rearing beast that was made up of excuses and crying and guilt and torment. He just wanted it to go.

He’d lost the immature shell that had led him to Jotunheim. He’d lost the desperation of Earth’s invader. He’s lost the pride of Asgard’s ruler. Now he was just a man, with no home, no father and no purpose.

He had a sister that looked just like him and had wrought destruction on his planet (alike in so many ways) yet it was always down to him to be the one to end it. He’d destroyed his home planet…twice.

He’d almost destroyed what he now hoped to call his third.

If he lived that long, that was.

Lost in his grief, he didn’t hear the elevators slide open, nor the loud gasps as witnesses finally saw the chaos he had wreaked. Honestly, it was a surprise no one had come earlier, JARVIS should have... except JARVIS thought Loki was Stark. And Stark was allowed to destroy whatever he wanted. JARVIS would try and stop him, of course, but Loki was like Stark and was sooner lost in his head than he was listening to the world around him.

“Loki?” Bucky called out, spotting the man in the middle of the wreckage. Loki didn’t respond; he hadn’t heard in the first place. Bucky stepped forward but stopped before he could get any further, remembering the danger the god posed. He was reckless, not stupid, he wasn’t going to risk his life just to get close. 

Except he was too late to stop anyone else. Wanda was already walking forwards, hands outstretched, the infamous red curling up her arms like snakes. Bucky reached out for her, his fingertips brushing her arm but finding no purchase; she was too far gone, approaching the shivering man like one would a rabid animal. Before Bucky could run after her, she’d already gotten her hands on Loki’s temples, not quite touching, just hovering-

The scream was piercing, like a gunshot fired in the darkness. At first, Bucky thought it was Loki’s but no…no, it was too high. _Wanda_. Bucky rushed forwards but Wanda had already flung herself from Loki, clutching her head as she heaved in gulping breaths. For a moment, Bucky wondered whether her magic had backfired. It very well might have; Loki would likely have defences against that sort of thing, Wanda’s magic wasn't nearly as unique outside of their own small planet. 

But by the time the team reached her, she was already speaking, stammering over broken phrases. “He…he- oh god, he, it was like- it was- no-.”

“Wanda, calm down,” Bucky ordered sternly. He forced her to follow his breathing, eyes darting to Loki every now and then, who was staring at the debacle with wide, terrified eyes. That was not a man who had just attacked a young girl, Bucky thought, not on purpose anyway. “What happened?” He asked, ushering MJ and Peter further back, trying to clear out the claustrophobic sensation of crowds from around them. 

“I saw everything. His mind, it was all just right there- I just- I just,” she hiccuped but powered on, “I wanted him to snap out of it and just, I was going to look, for Peter, why he did- why he _came_ to New York and-.” She stopped, heaving in another shuddering breath. “It was awful.”

“It was my fault,” a quiet whisper interrupted. Loki. 

“No,” she argued vehemently. “What he did-.”

“He played on what I wanted.”

“He used the _sceptre_ . You said you knew about my past so you _know_ I know about the sceptre. I had the same thing used on me. Yes, it brings out your desires but it twists them and turns them against everything you ever thought they could be and-,” she was rambling, she knew, but she had to continue, had to dig past Loki’s frightened denial. Attempting to calm herself, she went on. “What you did before, that wasn’t okay. You can’t blame everything on your father, in that you’re probably right. But that doesn’t put all the blame on you and it certainly doesn’t mean that the rest of it was just as wrong. One mistake does not determine the rest of-.”

“It was a genocide of my own people.”

“You are a prince. I am not defending what you did but you have seen what your father did too. You attempted barely a fraction of it and on your own at that. No cannon-fodder, just you.”

“There are no excuses.”

“No. But again, that does not determine the rest of what happened next.”

“I attempted to take over your planet. Stop defending me!” Loki snapped. 

“Believe me, if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. But what I just saw…” she trailed off, “I’m not going to let that stand. You can’t blame yourself, not entirely. No one lets me think that way. No one let’s Bucky think that way. Why should you be allowed to? He _controlled_ you.”

“He manipulated me.”

“Then why the anomalies? Why the blue eyes-.”

“I had to be connected to the sceptre so he could communicate with me.”

“So he could keep control! What about the defences? You let Thor find you and it would have been much easier if you had just left him in Asgard. You didn’t _need_ him for your plan. He didn’t need to be there to capture you. You let Heimdall find you. And you could have defeated the Hulk, if you’d just used your full power-,” she stopped, smiling something broken, “but you didn’t because he’d broken your connection. It was over. You let yourself be broken. You punished yourself.”

“Believe me, if I knew what it would feel like, I wouldn’t have…”

“But you did let it happen. You submitted yourself to it because the one thing you believe in most is freedom and liberty, even if it’s so you can play your games; the last thing you wanted was subjugation, even under your rule. Think of Asgard, when you were pretending to be your father. Freedom was rife, maybe even more so than your father’s reign. All you wanted was good food, a big statue and some silly plays-“

“They were not silly.”

“They were,” Wanda deadpanned, though a smile had slipped onto her lips. Bucky watched the proceedings with unreserved interest, surprised to see Wanda’s shoulders slump, even if Loki still seemed curled in on himself, unwilling to unravel himself. “I can see your memories,” Wanda continued, “but I can form observations separate from your feelings. I’m an objective party here,” she persuaded, “this wasn’t your fault. It was torture-.”

“Stop,” Loki ordered weakly. “Just stop.”

“No,” Wanda continued vehemently. “He tortured you. You were injured, you were in pain every time you took a step. You were tired; that level of sleep deprivation could have been enough to get away with half of it alone.”

“It was me.”

“It was him. Why are you taking responsibility for something you don’t want to have done, that you _didn’t_ do?”

“But I did.”

“Wanda-,” Bucky cut off.

“What? I saw-.”

“Wanda!” He bit out louder. “Let me talk to him for a moment.” Wanda opened her mouth, before slowly closing it again, giving Bucky a subtle nod. This team was about trust.

“Loki, look at me.” Loki dragged his eyes up from the ground. He didn’t look tired, in fact, he looked almost ethereally perfect, his biology making up for the nightmares. Bucky could understand now why people struggled to empathise with Loki. He looked put together; his words were snide and well-formed. You couldn’t get through to him, not when he was prepared for it. So instead Bucky was forced to go for the low blows, say his part when Loki was at his lowest. 

“You attacked Earth. You attempted to take Earth over. You did that.”

Loki looked up to him, eyes wet but the tear tracks on his cheeks dry. He nodded.

“Just like I murdered dozens of people, maybe even hundreds,” Bucky continued. “I did those things. But do I deserve to be punished for it? Do I deserve to die for it? Maybe. But a hell of a lot of people don’t think so. I can’t ask that you change your mindset, only believe that it might not be right. Maybe it was in part to do with you but the actual psychic seems to think otherwise. I’d take that as a pretty good source.” Bucky swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat. “It sounds like you were a weapon, just like I was. Maybe not at first, but I killed people before I was ever the Soldier for a regime I hardly understood. It wasn’t genocide, sure, but I don’t think I could do that even if I tried, I don’t have that kind of power. So recognise your mistakes and put them behind you. You deserve a-.”

“Second chance,” Loki finished, his voice just above a whisper. Bucky looked at him, eyebrows drawn inwards. “I- I hacked into JARVIS. I saw you talk to Peter,” he admitted, ignoring the embarrassed gasp from behind Bucky, “you said you thought I deserved a second chance. But Peter was right-.”

“Peter made a good point but it did nothing to say that you didn’t deserve a second chance.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“So have I. And look at me? I’m a free man now. Got my own team and everything. Steve and I are equals now. But back to the other point. You hacked JARVIS?”

Loki sighed. “He is primitive.”

Bucky barked a sharp laugh. “Primitive, sure, if that’s what you want to call it. Does Stark know?” Loki shook his head. “Okay, we’re gonna have to tell him. Can you free JARVIS from whatever you’re doing to him?” Loki capitulated silently and waved a superfluous hand to make it obvious that he was receding his magic. “You understand what a second chance means?” Loki shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, you still have your freedom but you gotta follow the right path, okay?”

“And what would you call that, oh Mighty?” Loki drawled, his usual personality seeping back in as he struggled to put his defences back up. He was an idiot for ever letting them down.

“Kindness. Mercy. Empathy. You don’t have to be like Steve and fight the good fight and all that shit. Just give other humans the decency of a chance and some kindness. So no more primitive stuff, okay?”

“But your things are rather…outdated.”

“Then help us make them better. I’m sure Tony would love the help. Peter?”

“Oh, um, I mean-“ Peter said, flustered, before picking himself up. “Well, with all the…evidence, there would be a chance he’d be open to it. I mean…what just happened?” Peter blurted, his face pure confusion. 

“Loki was forced to attack Earth by an alien tyrant so it wasn’t really his fault,” Wanda interjected.

“Oh.” Peter looked at MJ, who was at just as much a loss for words. “Sorry?”

Loki took in a deep breath, pausing before he put the next brick in the wall of his fortress. “No, I am sorry. I caused you pain when you were a child. And,” he continued, glaring at Wanda, “that isn’t the whole story, I also-.”

“Agree to disagree!” Wanda shouted over him, glaring back. Whilst they were still stuck in their glaring impasse, Peter struggled to say a quiet, “oh, well, thank you?”

“So what’s happening with training?” MJ asked finally, “seeing as the alien god destroyed all our equipment.”

“Um.” Bucky looked around the room, wincing. “I’ll call Steve.” He backed away from the group, leaving the teenagers (and Loki) to their own devices. 

“So,” Wanda drawled, looking down at the hunched God, “how old are you?”

“What?”

“Well, not that there’s an age limit here but there does seem to be a pattern of being very young or very old.”

“I think you’d classify me as both,” Loki said cryptically, cracking the moment Wanda raised one of her poised eyebrows (and wasn’t that becoming a superpower in itself?). “I am young by Asgardian standards and very old by Midgardian ones. I am just over 1000-years-old.”

“And how long do Asgardians live?” MJ asked.

“About 5000 years. As a prince, maybe up to 6000.”

Doing the maths in her head, MJ finally said, “so you’re really about...well, between 15 and 18.”

“I’m 1000-years-old.”

“And the equivalent to 18.”

“I do not think that is how this works. I am far above the maturity of an eighteen-year-old Midgardian.”

“Are you?”

The group stared at each other with looks ranging from poisonous to amused as Bucky came back, shoving his phone in…well, he didn’t have pockets so it was easier not to think about it. 

“You’re not an old man anymore!” Wanda declared when he was close enough.

“I’m not?”

“Well, you are, but Loki’s ancient so…”

“How old?”

“1000-years-old,” Loki answered himself. 

“Which is the equivalent to eighteen-years-old,” MJ added. “Or less.”

“Um, great,” Bucky hedged, changing the topic altogether. “Steve says we can use his gym, okayed it with JARVIS and everything. It’s smaller but the equipment is intact. Also, Stark isn’t allowed in there so we hold off that chaos until later. He might even watch the footage back and learn some things.” With that, he turned on his feet and left the room, expecting the others to follow. They did.

The elevator was silent, the tension in the small space thick and choking. Bucky had taken to leaning against the right wall of the elevator, giving him good peripheral vision of the space, whilst Loki had taken the space opposite, which meant there was now a distinct space between Loki and Bucky’s team, who had all flocked to the right side, mumbling quietly to each other. Bucky frowned but couldn’t very well move to the other side now, especially not when Loki was still radiating a dangerous tension that could lead to disastrous consequences if snapped. 

He couldn’t rush this. It was a delicate situation and one that no one was quite capable of handling well. Peter and MJ were still wary, rightly so, and would need a lot more persuasion before they could trust Loki. Wanda now seemed _too_ close in comparison; there was something intimate about being in someone else’s head and something that likely made Loki feel all too vulnerable. And then Bucky was in the middle of it. Not trusting but not _not_ trusting either. Just hoping he could make something out of these fractured pieces but all too aware of how sharp they were. 

It was a mess but then again, wasn’t most of life?

They reached Steve’s gym after what felt like an eternity and was definitely less than a minute, the elevator doors opening to see a rather stern-looking Steve on the other side. “What’s going on?” He asked, his eyes trained on the trickster god, who had yet to leave the elevator (whilst MJ and Peter had fled). 

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, approaching him, “I said I’d explain later.”

“And I wanted an answer now.”

“You’re a stubborn shit,” Bucky said, although not harshly, just like a rote insult that had been used a few too many times. “But I promise, full explanation later. I have some things to do.”

“With Loki?”

“There’s a lot more going on here than you realise, just let me handle it.”

“Loki’s supposed to be working for us.”

“And so far you haven’t made him do anything and I know because you told me you didn’t want to. So let me put him to use, make reparations for the sake of his country and maybe change your mind on him a little bit.”

“Why?” Steve asked, something akin to desperation in his eyes. 

“Because everyone deserves a second chance. And he needs someone to give him that, just like you gave it to me.”

Steve sighed, eyes averted to the floor, his face looking suddenly so much more tired than before. “Fine. I trust you, you know that, just…be careful.” 

Bucky smiled up at Steve, using a metal finger to lift Steve’s chin. “Always. ’Til the end of the line, right? Don’t want to be cutting that short.”

Steve nodded, his eyes finally landing on the group watching them, a small flush burning on his cheeks. “’Til the end of the line,” he assured, fleeing into the elevator, which finally gave Loki the persuasion to get out of it, followed closely by Wanda, who now seemed to be acting sentry to the god. 

With Steve gone, Bucky had the opportunity to take in the gym and try to put whatever he could to use. It was a lot smaller than theirs, although not impossible to use. It did lack rafters for Peter to swing from but was very long, giving good space for running. The exercise machines were all bunged in one corner, whilst the whole rest of the space seemed to be dedicated to the punching bag. 

On a more careful inspection, Bucky noticed the splattering of blood on the dark surface, dried into the seams. He promised himself to talk to Steve about them. It wasn’t something new but he’d thought they’d gotten past this and if Steve was using his private gym at Stark Tower to make sure Bucky didn’t see that he was getting back into old habits, there was going to be trouble ahead. 

“Think there’s some energy to work off here,” Bucky announced, “how about we skip the training and go straight to the end?” Because even Bucky wasn’t that clever and what was a better way to solve your problems than beat each other up?

“I’m in,” Wanda said, followed quickly by Peter. Loki shrugged, which Bucky took as a yes. MJ remained silent, looking warily at her attackers and the lack of cover. Her shield, too, was still downstairs and whilst there was nothing to stop her from grabbing it, it would mean they all had to wait around for her. “I’m fine,” she finally said. “I want to watch.” Bucky nodded, spotting the truth behind the lie. MJ really wouldn’t mind watching this match, even if she wasn’t participating out of (very reasonable) fear. 

“I’m out too. I think this might take me refereeing,” Bucky said, “and honestly, I don’t have enough protection from all this magic stuff. Peter, you going to be alright?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, a little too confidently. Bucky wondered what he had up his sleeve to look so sly. 

“Okay then. Loki, you stay at this end. Peter, you go to the far end, Wanda you go to the centre of the left wall. When I yell ‘go’, you start. Got it?” Nods all around. “And Loki, following rules apply: no lethal force, avoid harmful force at all costs, getting a hit on someone means they lose a life. You all have three lives. Got it?” Loki nodded, keeping his silence like a weapon. 

They moved to their positions quickly, each looking warily at their opponents. Bucky let the tension hold and then after 30 seconds of vibrating silence, Bucky finally shouted, “go!”

They all took defensive stances. Wanda and Loki flew up shields immediately, the mix of the red and green a lovely Christmas decoration to the otherwise bland, grey gym. Peter crawled to the ceiling, using his dark clothing (no Spider-suit today) to blend in with the grey paint. He then tucked himself to one side, where the walls connected, far away from any of the lights, and made himself almost invisible. It was a great tactic in the face of his opponents and Bucky couldn’t help but be a little proud of what he’d accomplished. 

Soon after, the lights sparked brighter. Wanda was trying to shoot through Loki’s shields, red fireworks pounding at the impenetrable green shield. Her hands flew like she was playing an instrument, her fingers curling as she tried to dig into cracks that just weren’t there, flawlessly putting up her own shields when Loki retaliated. 

They seemed to realise at the same time that brute strength wasn’t going to work.

Wanda flew towards him, arms raised and landed an almost useless kick to the chest, immediately allowing Loki to strike her shoulder. They were both down to two lives. Peter had yet to move.

From there, Wanda was more careful. The red tendrils of her magic wrapped their way around Loki’s arms, slowing him down enough that she could escape his blows but Loki had more tricks up his sleeve. Tearing her magic apart like it was a ribbon, he duplicated himself and surrounded Wanda in vicious looking villains, all in Loki’s form but with maniacal grins and sinister Asgardian-looking garb. But Wanda wasn’t falling for it. She ducked under the first strike and slammed her hand into the floor, spreading a shower of red sparks from her palm. Slowly, they grew into ropes, reaching towards the mind of each of the so-called Lokis and with quick precision, Wanda wrapped the ropes in her fist and _tugged_.

Immediately, the other mirages disappeared, leaving a haggard Loki, who’s disguise has now fallen off and left the workout gear underneath. His expression was amused, if a little surprised, as he returned to brute strength, trying to tag her whilst she was still crouching. He would have been able to but her shield was back up, stopping his palm before it could reach her. 

They were fairly evenly matched and without something to push them, this could go on forever.

“Ten minutes remaining!” Bucky called out, despite having set no timer beforehand. 

Peter remained still, so Bucky presumed he was waiting for the other two to dwindle each other’s lives down before he got involved. Of course, Loki was too clever for that, so whilst Wanda crawled to her feet, instead of attacking her, he swivelled and aimed a green shot straight at Peter’s chest. 

Peter was quick, though, and easily as strong as Loki. (Bucky was often surprised to see how much stronger Peter was than him and Steve too. The kid could easily pick up an elephant). He swung away, web connected to the other wall where he could grapple across, watching as the green sparks harmlessly hit the wall where he’d been with a quiet hiss. 

Realising he’d been left in a predicament, Peter finally reached for whatever he’d been waiting for and pulled out…

The orbs.

Bucky didn’t know how he’d forgotten about them but one of Thor’s birthday presents was lying in Peter’s hand, smooth and gleaming as Peter threw it at the ground and immediately, the room filled with vicious colour. Somewhat reminiscent of a rave, the lights were catastrophically distracting, dancing off the walls in a way that was both disorientating and irritating. It created shadows where there hadn’t been shadows before and blinding light in replacement of the gentle white fluorescence of the usual lights. 

Peter used the ever-changing darkness to make his way through the room. It would be highly distracting with Peter’s eyesight but as Bucky watched, there was no doubt that Peter had been practising with these in private (god knew where). He travelled the lights like they were a second home, tagging Wanda with an easy pat as he passed her and just managing to clip a surprised Loki as he slung a web on the opposite side of the room.

Wanda and Loki: 1. Peter: 3.

But there had been a fatal flaw in Peter’s plan: Loki was as Asgardian and a clever one at that, no doubt he knew exactly how these orbs worked, and knew exactly how to use them to his advantage. With an almost uncaring flick of his wrist, the lights had changed, bathing the room in a darkness that would have looked pitch black to un-enhanced eyes. MJ, no doubt, couldn’t see anything, whilst Bucky could only pick up movement. Peter would be likely to see the room easily still but would struggle to see anyone keeping to the shadows whilst Wanda was already struggling. She could use her powers to create a light but that would mean revealing her location. Loki, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be affected at all, walking like he could see in the darkness as well as he could the light. If you looked closely, though, you could see Loki’s eyes had the slightest gleam of red, and instead of the usual iris and pupil, the eye was now a blank slate, just a glossy red surface. 

Another puzzle to figure out, no doubt.

In the darkness, Loki took Wanda’s last life with a gentle tap on her shoulder before making his way to Peter. Despite having so many lives, Bucky didn’t hold out hope. In moments like these, it was more obvious than ever just how old and clever Loki was. His eyes darted around like he was making a 1000 plans with a single look and he strolled like he was vulnerable, luring attackers in.

Peter fell for it. He came at Loki from above, his leg outstretched to kick Loki’s shoulders but Loki had already grabbed Peter’s leg and pulled him down so he landed on his foot but would have completely overbalanced if not for the inexplicable stickiness to surfaces (Bucky still wanted a scientific explanation for that. He got it with his bare hands but his feet had shoes on them, why would they still stick?).

“That does count as a hit, does it not?” Loki asked calmly, shield raised to prevent Peter’s now desperate attacks.

Bucky just nodded, despite his lack of visibility, although the shield helped a little, the subtle green creating a perpetual movement Bucky’s eyes could hold onto, even if it was much darker than his usual magic. So, Loki: 1. Peter: 2. 

It barely lasted longer. Loki lowered his shield and started hand to hand combat and it soon became clear what years more training could do. However much Loki relied on his magic, it was clear that he’d still had training with arms. He ducked and dived without breaking a sweat as Peter frantically tried to pummel him with hits so fast that Bucky could only track the blur they were leaving behind.

Carefully, Loki picked apart Peter’s weak spots, clipping his elbow and his stomach, which had both been left vulnerable. As soon as he hit the final blow, the lights went back up. 

Blinking, Bucky tried to adjust to the lights as he called, “game over!” MJ was blinking rapidly, staring mournfully down at her sketchpad where her drawing of Loki and Wanda’s fight had been ruined by a rough, jagged line across the page. Wanda looked just as disorientated from her spot on the floor, where she remained unmoved from earlier. She was sweating, beads of liquid coalescing around her hairline. Peter was no better, but he was smiling subtly, shock lining his eyes. “That was…I don’t think I’ve been that worn out in forever.” Bucky frowned; if that was the case, he needed to start giving Peter some harder opponents. Although Wanda was extremely difficult to beat, that was due to magical limitations, not pure strength. Loki presented a good challenger in both.

“You were impressive,” Loki said to Peter, still somewhat haughty. “You are as strong as any Asgardian warrior.”

“Really?” Peter gaped, previous worries about Loki temporarily swept aside in the face of the Prince’s praise. 

“Very much so. You need further training but for a Midgardian so young, you did well. Where did you get the Kringla?”

“Oh, you mean the orb? Thor. He got them for my birthday.” 

Loki just hummed in response, nodding, before going to Wanda. “You did very well. Your magic is impressive and strong, though its versatility is still limited.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For a team so young, you are impressive warriors.”

“Thank you. You were very good too, at just about everything.” Wanda looked at Bucky, smiling. “It’s Asgardian custom to compliment your opponent’s strengths after a battle.” 

“Well, I’m going to be very un-Asgardian then and go through what went wrong.” Wanda just laughed, used to it by now, as she got to her feet and joined the rest of the team, Loki following close behind. 

Bucky looked at all of them, his mind going through a million possibilities a minute but instead, he just smiled. “Forget it, you all did great. I’ll see you Wednesday,” he said and dismissed them all. He needed some time to think about how he could make this situation work to his advantage. Loki was a wildcard but one that Bucky really did deserve a second chance, although he vowed to talk to Wanda a little more about what she’d seen. And with MJ and Peter’s lingering fears, there was going to be a problem going forward.

Bucky didn’t dare back away from the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t noticed, I am English, hence the lingo like sofa. Only just realised that but I’m sure you’ll understand.
> 
> Fun fact: Kringla actually means Orb/Circle in Norse!
> 
> Comments and kudos always so appreciated. Love ideas, criticism, mindless ramblings...etc :D


	4. Intermission II: The Outside World (and a taste of freedom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some pretty strong views that come at the start of this. I try very hard not to make anything I write particularly political and usually pride myself on being pretty unbiased. Any bias in here is what I think the character could believe in, in certain circumstances. Feel free to point out what you think might be wrong, it was a surprisingly difficult task!
> 
> Random note: Grammarly gave this the highest score of anything I've ever written so I guess you can give yourself semi high standards or accuse Grammarly of being an utterly idiotic app :D

Their Wednesday session came two days before Christmas, the temperature outside frigid for most but not so much for two enhanced super-soldiers. Steve and Bucky woke up entangled, basking in the warmth of the blankets as slush melted on the streets outside. Bucky woke slowly to see Steve still passed out beside him and settled in for a doze as the light started to creep through the curtains.

But he couldn’t stay in bed forever.

“Urgh,” Bucky groaned as he finally pushed himself up, stretching upwards and bending his back to _just_ the right angle. Steve blinked up at him blearily, a small smile pervading his face. “What you looking at, punk?”

“Nothing.” 

Bucky laughed and let his arms fall. “Sure,” he drawled, pressing a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips. “I’m gonna go make some coffee.” Steve hummed happily, slowly (so very, very slowly) clambering out of bed to follow the scent of coffee into the kitchen. 

“Are you coming in today?” Bucky asked as he poured out two cups, pushing one towards Steve. 

“Yeah. Vision wants to catch up a little more on history and apparently, I give him a ‘humanitarian’ explanation.”

“Huh. Not the worst way to spend your Wednesdays.”

“Not really, no. Better than sitting around here, waiting for you.”

“Or, you know, you could pick up a hobby,” Bucky said before taking a large sip from his mug.

“I have hobbies.”

“Name ‘em.” 

“We go places.”

“ _We_ do, yes. But what do _you_ do.”

“I don’t like this talking thing,” Steve deflected, “it’s annoying.”

“And it should be, that way you get off your ass and get some hobbies.”

“I draw! Sometimes…”

“How often do you draw without MJ there nowadays?”

“Sometimes.”

Bucky sighed, putting his mug down on the counter. “Steve, I just don’t want you to be reliant on me. You know I love to hang out with you but I still have my bad days. I don’t want you sitting there just waiting for me to get better. My bad days can’t be your bad days.”

“Your bad days will _always_ be my bad days. I can’t watch you in pain and not feel that.”

“Exactly! It’s not healthy.”

Steve shrugged. “Healthy or not, don’t think I can change it.”

“Not with that attitude.” Bucky rounded the island and came up to Steve, sitting on the stool beside him. “I’m free now and that’s great, it means you’re not trapped in here with me but I just…look, my freedom has shown me how awful it was to be trapped inside so much and you did that without complaint, willingly, it’s- it’s not good.”

Steve looked down at the floor, eyebrows drawn inward. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, it was. You don’t gotta lie. But now we’re both able to go wherever we want. And look, I’m not going to be around all the time. I’ve got a team now and I know you do too but it’s not the same. The Avengers are your colleagues more than your friends. Go see Sam a bit more. Invite Natasha out to dinner. Don’t let life pass you by.”

“I don’t want to be away if something happens,” Steve admitted.

“I can handle myself. And if I can’t, there are plenty of people who can. If something happens, sure, I want you to get back here, pronto, but it’s not gonna be any better if you’re five minutes away rather than twenty. Hell, even an hour or two.”

“If I can stop something-“

“You can’t. The biggest danger to me now is my own mind and you can’t stop that. Hydra? I can take them down myself and if there’s a lot of them, I’ll have either my team or the Avengers with me or close by. That’s not your responsibility.”

“What if I want it to be?”

“Look at it like this. Whilst your around, it’s your job to protect me, just like it’s my job to protect you-“

“You don’t-“

“No, let me finish. Just like it’s my job to protect you,” Bucky repeated. “But you can’t do a job 24/7. It’ll wear you down. Every now and then you need a break; see some other people, have some fun elsewhere. No matter how much you love your job, sometimes you just gotta do something else. Can you get that through your workaholic head?”

“I guess.”

“Great,” Bucky cheered with a smile, pressing a chaste kiss to Steve’s lips. “Just work on it, okay?” 

Steve nodded, gulping down about half of his mug before he got up and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him tightly. “’Til the end of the line.”

“Yeah, pal, ’til the end of the line. And don’t forget it.”

They parted ways for the next 30 minutes whilst Bucky (attempted to) cook breakfast and Steve had a shower, walking into the kitchen with his usual boring outfit on, dragging a towel over his head. 

“You really need to update your wardrobe,” Bucky complained.

“My wardrobe is fine.”

“It’s boring.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“It can be comfortable _and_ not boring.”

“Well, I like my clothes,” Steve argued stubbornly but still smiled when Bucky handed him the plate of slightly burnt sausages, bacon and a huge fried egg. “Thanks, Buck. You’re getting better.”

“Better than you anyway. And no matter what, it’s still better than what we ate back in the day.”

“We didn’t really eat much back in the day.”

“And it still made a lasting impact on me and I have _memory loss_ so what does that say about it?” Bucky grabbed his own plate and sat down beside Steve, shovelling down the first half of the eight sausages he’d piled on the plate before he spoke again. “You know, I still haven’t gotten a chance to talk about last Wednesday with them.”

“You still mad?”

“No. Just…annoyed at myself, really.”

“You shouldn’t be. I know I pushed you and-“

“It’s on both of us. I just feel bad. I feel like I handled it wrong. But maybe I’m wrong. They didn’t bring it up on Saturday or anything but then again, they were pretty focused on the whole Loki thing-“

“You know, I was gonna talk to you about that.”

“Loki? I know you don’t like him, Steve.”

“Don’t like him? He’s _evil_!”

“Like I was?”

“No, Buck. Not even close. You know I’ve talked to Thor about him? Aside from the whole taking over Earth thing, he tried to destroy a planet. He tried to commit genocide.”

“Genocide of his own people. The ones he was taught to hate.”

“We fought against the Nazi’s, Buck. You know what happened in those concentration camps. Are you saying Hitler was okay to do that because he was _taught_ to hate them?”

Bucky gaped at him. “Of course not! How fucking dare you, Steve. I was tortured by those Nazi fucks, I think you know _exactly_ how I feel about their regime and how horrific it was.”

“Then how is Loki any different?”

“This was his _own_ people. This wasn’t some delusional hatred against someone different. This was his own lack of self-worth-“

“And that excuses genocide?”

“What about Hiroshima? You get to bring up Hitler, what about Hiroshima? America bombed an entire city for the sake of the war effort and they didn’t get placed in the permanently evil category for it.”

“Hiroshima was not a good thing, Buck.”

“But it stopped the war. Look, I know it was shit. What Loki did was also shit. But I’m just saying, there are _reasons_ and reason enough that he deserves one more chance. If he blows it, fine, get rid of him, see me care but can’t you get it through your thick skull that maybe you don’t have the full picture!” Bucky didn’t realise he was shouting until he stopped, his breath ragged and heavy. “I’m sorry,” he added, taking his voice down to a whisper. “I don’t know either. I just…there’s something wrong in this story. Something that doesn’t fit.”

“Haven’t you thought that what doesn’t fit is your hope in him?”

“It isn’t, Steve, I promise you. Looking objectively…it’s just…this isn’t black and white.”

Steve put his face in his hands, slowly dragging them down with a deep sigh. “It never is, is it? Just, if this is a trick…”

“I can take care of myself. Really, I can.”

“I know. I just can’t…I don’t want to lose you…again.”

“You won’t. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good to know.” Steve got up, taking his plate to the sink. He started to rinse it when he turned around, eyes sorrowful. “I really don’t know if Loki deserves the credit you’re giving him but, if you think this is for the best, I’ll trust you. I’ll always trust you.”

“Thanks. You know, I trust you too. Always.”

~*~

Bucky barely made it in before the rest of them. He and Steve had been…busy, and he’d had to run to get the subway, which - of course - had delays. It was a miracle he wasn’t the last. Peter was barely a minute behind him, Wanda and MJ about five minutes after that. 

They sat down in awkward silence before Peter finally mustered the courage to bite out, “is Loki coming?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway. I’ve still got things to…sort out.” A plan to make, he meant, but he didn’t know if they’d like the sound of that. 

“Oh. Okay.”

“We wanted to talk about last Wednesday,” Wanda interrupted, face stern. 

“Oh, yeah, thought that would come up.”

“I just want an explanation.” Bucky looked up, surprised by what he was faced with. Wanda looked so mature already; a girl who’d grown up years before she had to. She was starting to look like a woman, indignant as she was. Bucky was proud of her. 

“I’m sorry. I really am. I want to say that Steve strong-armed me into it but…I dealt with it all wrong. Steve had got tickets for a Dodgers game. It’s the team we supported back in the day; we were always saving up for tickets. He showed them to me, surprised me with ‘em. I didn’t even think, really. I realised when we were getting on the plane what I was missing. Steve persuaded me out of turning around but that’s not an excuse. I got excited by being able to do stuff and I let you guys down.”

Wanda nodded, finally giving away the disappointment she felt. Peter looked goddamn _devastated_ , although it was MJ who spoke up. “So you’re leaving then?” Of course that was her first reaction. Abandoned before, abandoned again, MJ had found out the pattern of life.

“No,” Bucky promised, “it was a mistake on my part. A one-off. And this team means more than anything to me. You know what, this session is off. We’re doing something else, together, outside.”

“Really?” Peter gasped. They’d never gone out. Before, Bucky hadn’t been able to go outside and after…well, that was just Bucky’s fault for keeping the status quo. 

“It’s stupid that we haven’t done it sooner. Now wrap up, it’s fucking freezing out there. We can, I don’t know, do some training and just have a picnic.”

“It’s the middle of winter,” MJ deadpanned.

“So we’ll have the park to ourselves,” Bucky said with a stupid smile. “Look, I don’t get cold and I’m guessing Peter doesn’t either. Wanda has magic to keep her warm, I’m sure she could share.”

“Of course!” Wanda agreed. “Not gonna let my friend freeze.”

“You guys fine with bringing Steve along?” That got mostly enthusiastic nods so Bucky sent a message up through JARVIS. 

Within five minutes, they were all in the lobby. “What’s up?” Steve asked.

“We’re going on a trip to make up for last Wednesday.”

“Oh, look, guys,” Steve said, addressing the team, “that was my fault, I should have known-.”

“Steve,” Bucky cut off. “There have been enough apologies today, let’s just let it go and prove that it was a stupid one-off.”

“Good game, though,” Steve muttered. 

“Yes, it was, but maybe now isn’t the time to bring that up?” Bucky was smiling, though, so it couldn’t have been that bad. 

“Oh shit,” Wanda suddenly blurted. 

“Language!” Steve blurted in turn (the idiot). 

“Really?” Bucky asked him.

“They’re _kids_.”

“And they can swear. It’s not gonna kill them.”

“Have you been swearing in front of them?” Steve said, with his signature Captain-America-is-disappointed-in-you face. 

“Yes because it _doesn’t matter_.”

“Bucky!”

“Back to the point. What is it, Wanda?” Bucky asked, in favour of staring at Steve’s floundering.

“Um, is it a good idea for us to be seen with you without, you know, our masks? Will people put it together? Especially if we’re training.”

“Shit,” Bucky hissed. “This is what I get for living in the moment. Um, would you be comfortable wearing your masks.” Wanda shrugged and nodded, whilst Peter didn’t seem to mind at all. MJ, on the other hand, looked confused. “I don’t really have a mask.”

“Um, what about…” Bucky’s brain went at a mile an hour but came up with nothing.

“I might have something,” Steve mentioned, “just wait here.” Leaving them all a little confused, he went back into the elevator, coming down a few minutes later with something golden in his hands. As he came closer, Bucky’s eyes finally focused on it.

It was a beautiful Venetian mask. Golden with a black trim, it had an elastic band to keep it on the face. “Um, I got this when I was looking for you, in Italy,” Steve said, looking shyly at Bucky. “Sam wanted to go to Venice so we took a detour and I just thought it was beautiful. You think it would work?” He asked, turning to MJ.

“Are you sure? It looks…expensive.”

“It’s not exactly getting used elsewhere. It’s been sitting in my room here at the Tower, barely looked at. Maybe it’ll give it the attention it deserves.” 

Taking it with infinitely gentle fingers, MJ picked it up and examined it. “This is beautiful. Thanks, Steve.”

“No problem. So, should we head out?”

“What, you’re not wearing a mask?” Bucky quipped. 

“Ugh, I’m not wearing that cowl. It’s uncomfortable.”

“I keep telling you to talk to Stark about it,” Bucky reminded, shaking his head.

“I’ll get to it.” Steve had been avoiding Stark, if only to give him some peace of mind but he’d have to go to the labs eventually and suffer through the spiel he’d get about not telling Tony sooner on top of the usual tension those two inevitably created. 

If Bucky wasn’t more secure in their relationship, he’d almost be worried about it.

They headed out as an eclectic group, made up of two super-soldiers and three masked teenagers. If anything, they looked like they were about to rob a bank _in style_ but no, instead they turned towards Central Park, winding their way easily through the foliage until they found a few empty pockets between the trees, far off the path. The only people who were coming out here were the unnaturally curious and a few adventurous dog walkers. 

“Are you doing some training out here?” Steve asked, as they waded through another copse of trees, finally getting to another small area of grass, where they’d be surrounded on all sides. It would do well to prove them a limited space of movement whilst giving Peter the advantage he’d need, as well as cover for MJ and the other super soldiers.

“If I can make it work. The Avengers train outside often?”

Steve shook his head. “Too noticeable. If we can, we go somewhere really remote but it’s not that helpful. We have to adapt to too many different terrains, it’s easier to simulate them than travel around the world.”

“Makes sense. Not as fun, though.”

Steve smirked. “Not as fun at all.” 

“Okay, troops,” Bucky called, “let’s get this show on the road. We’re finally getting an opportunity to train _outside_ of the limited set of parameters. For now, we don’t leave this small area because, well, I’d rather not deal with the cops right now, but use the different scenario to your advantage. Spider,” he said, pointedly avoiding their names, “what are your strengths here?”

“Um…the trees help me swing. I can also climb the trees and hide.”

“Weaknesses?”

“The trees aren’t that tall, making them hard to swing from when I’m not right by them.”

“Scarlet? Strengths?”

“Um…I can use the shadows from the trees to my advantage. In a bad situation, I could also uproot them and use them as a heavy weapon.”

“Weaknesses.”

“Have to defend myself from all sides and the shadows of the trees can also work against me.”

“Shield?”

MJ smirked at the name. “I guess…it’s pretty bad for me. I have the same weaknesses as Wanda but none of the advantages.”

“Okay, so we change that. Have you ever learnt to climb trees?”

“Um...no?”

“Come on then, let’s go, I’ll show you my technique. It’s a bit like bouldering; you ever heard of that?” As Bucky walked to one side, MJ next to him, he also hollered, “Steve, let Scarlet and Spider spar and make sure they don’t accidentally kill each other!” 

Without looking back, he left them to their own devices. 

From there on out, it was simple. They did training as usual, except with some new elements that allowed them wider diversity and enjoyment. Honestly, after the (god) nine or so months together, it was bound to get boring just wandering around the gym, if entirely necessary. 

They finish up a little sooner than usual with MJ perfecting the art of climbing trees whilst Wanda learnt that an enclosed environment could actually make flying much easier. Peter, unfortunately, had spent most of the time reaping the consequences of that. 

Bucky decided against doing a full-out combat situation at the end, worried about drawing undue attention on their first attempt at going out. Maybe once they were more comfortable, they’d be happier bringing an audience. For now, Bucky held no compunctions about the fact that someone could have easily gotten a picture of what they were doing and would no doubt spread it. So, for now, they kept it almost entirely harmless.

Instead, Bucky sat down in the middle of the small clearing and laid back on his hands, taking in the sun, even in the frigid December temperatures. It really wasn’t the best day to do this but he didn’t regret it. Slowly, the others joined him, Wanda holding a red ball of magic that was presumably working as a heater for both her and MJ, though there appeared to be some sort of weave around both their bodies too, with a dull red shine to it. 

“Buck, can we talk about something?” Steve asked as he sat down beside him, looking overly concerned for someone who was doing something supposedly fun and relaxing. Bucky’s eyes slowly roamed over the group and content that they were all happily in their own conversation, he turned back to Steve.

“Is this about earlier?”

“Oh, no, no. This is, well, you’re gonna think it’s _real_ stupid I know but should you really be swearing in front of them? They are young.”

Bucky stared at him, unimpressed. “I’m teaching them to fight Steve. I don’t think swearing is worse than that.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No, listen to me. I’m literally teaching three teenagers to fight. Two of them would already be fighting, sure, but M- _Shield_ , I literally _brought into this_. Swearing should be the least of your worries.”

“Are you worried about her?”

“Of course I am, I’m worried about all of them. But her being a part of this isn’t that great and certainly doesn’t look great to any outsiders. If her mum found out, well, that woman is a firecracker, she would _not_ be happy. But I’m not going to pull her out now.”

“You better not.” MJ’s eyes were set on them, her posture still relaxed but her shoulders tense. 

“Shie-“

“I’m not leaving.”

“Of course not. I’d never do that.” Bucky sighed. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t look great.”

“Yeah, well, life isn’t great.”

“Doesn’t mean you should make life that way. But it’s fine. It’s too late now and I’m not changing anything, okay? Just a thought.”

“Good. And, really, the swearing does not matter. At all.”

Steve blushed; he knew he sounded outdated when he said things like that. And it really wasn’t like he didn’t swear. He did. A lot. But when they were alone and in private. He still had something ingrained in him that said he could never swear in front of a woman and definitely not kids either. It was reserved for army buddies and Bucky (who, he guessed, was an army buddy too). 

“I know. It’s just a little odd for me.”

“Still stuck in his old ways, this one is,” Bucky teased, smiling softly. “Anyway, I think our order has finally arrived.”

“Order?”

“Texted Stark, got him to send a delivery here.”

“How did he even get our exact location?”

“I sent it to him.”

“And he didn’t show up?”

“Aw, he’s scared of us. But he did send soup. You guys want some?” Chorused yeses rang out from the group as the delivery guy came closer, looking absolutely confused as to why he’d been sent out to the middle of nowhere in Central Park. Then again, if he was in any way affiliated with Stark, he’d probably had worse. Or at least more interesting. 

Bucky passed out the soups, after some deliberation about flavours. Steve and Wanda had both reached for the only plain tomato, until eventually, Wanda gave in (which really made Steve look bad; so now, Bucky could bring up the MJ incident _and_ this when he needed the ammo). Peter and MJ happily took a vegetable soup each, whilst Bucky had the spicy ‘Mexican’ soup and Wanda was left with the creamy chicken at the end. She claimed that she didn’t mind but she didn’t eat with anywhere near as much gusto as the others. 

Bucky finished first, now pleasantly warmed, and got out his phone, deliberating on what would make a good picture for his Instagram. This still didn’t quite come naturally to him but he was enjoying keeping a photo album on his phone, just little pieces of his life to scroll through when he got bored. Honestly, he wasn’t so fussed about other people seeing it, but it was nice for his friends to be able to scroll through it too. He’d been private for a while but apparently being the Winter Soldier came with follow requests that had his phone going off every other second; it was easier to go public and ignore the notifications that came through, rather than checking the thousands of people for people that he _possibly_ knew (which seemed stupid, considering his small circle of friends, but he had found a few old family members looking to follow him and had accepted them, although he hadn’t gotten the guts to properly contact them yet, only follow them back). 

“Ooh! Are you taking a picture for Instagram?” Peter asked. Bucky nodded hesitantly. “We have to be in it!” Peter demanded. “I mean, if you want to. Of course, you don’t _have_ to.”

“I’d like to be in it,” MJ interrupted, saving Peter from further fumbling in a way that was becoming more and more common. They really were a good match.

“Scarlet?”

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“Okay, guys, get together, I want to try and get the trees in too. Steve?”

“No, I think it should just be the three of them.”

Nodding, Bucky held his phone up and took a picture of the beaming trio, all hidden behind their various masks. Staring down at the photo, Bucky couldn’t begin to hide his smile. To think he had come this far, it felt…out of this world, practically alien. But it was perfect either way. 

Sometimes even the worst in life could bring out the best. Just sometimes.

===

**jbb.barnes.official**

(Three masked people, two women and one man, all of indeterminate age, grin at the camera. Behind them is a plethora of thick, dark trees. The sun is shining bright, despite the time of year.)

Liked by **CAOfficial** and 89,132 others

 **jbb.barnes.official** Nothing better than getting out on a Winter’s day in New York!

===

Slowly, small groups formed between them, private conversations taking people in different directions. Steve had gone off with MJ and Wanda for a moment, talking about how to sketch landscapes. For what reason Wanda was interested in that, Bucky had no idea, but it did leave the perfect opportunity to speak to Peter again.

“Hey, you alright if we have a serious talk for a second?”

“‘Course. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check in with the whole Loki thing. I know him joining us made you and Shield uncomfortable but you both did great. You really held your own against him too.”

“Not really. He kinda ruined my surprise.”

“You used what you could. I think that was great. It didn’t work out, sure, but that’s what training’s for, right? You’ll find out a way. How are you feeling about it all, though?”

“Um…yeah, not great. But, well, Wanda now trusts him and if you _and_ her trust him then there must be something, I guess. I just, I don’t know him. It feels weird.”

“I get it. Sorry to have thrown this on top of everything else. How is everything else coming along? Is Flash still... _annoying_ you?”

“Nah, Wa- Scarlet pretty much sorted that. Most of my problems are just…Spiderman problems.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” Peter trailed off, eyes travelling to the horizon as he fidgeted. “It’s kinda hard to balance school with the whole Spiderman thing. And then to try and keep it a secret. It’s just…a lot. In general.”

“But you’re coping?”

“As well as I can.”

“You tell me if it gets too much. And that’s an order. I know I stuck up for you, made this team so you could fight but I’m not going to let you lose your life because of it. Spiderman shouldn’t be your priority.”

“People need my help.”

“No, people need help. General. There are plenty of people out there to help, it doesn’t have to be you. I know it doesn’t feel like it. I know you think it weighs on your shoulders but it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.” God, this was a familiar conversation. Too familiar. Bucky was starting to get sick of it, if only because it made his heart sink each time he had to repeat those words.

“I know. Kind of. Not really. But, I don’t know, it’s fine, for now.”

“For now. But if you’re not going to tell me about it, make sure you’re telling someone, okay? Your aunt or the team. They’d all listen.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

On the other side of the field, Steve had his sketchpad out on his lap, MJ and Wanda peering over either shoulder. “So, how are you two getting on?” Steve asked oddly as he put his pencil to paper. MJ tended to learn better just watching him do it, rather than have him explain his steps. 

“Great,” Wanda said, smiling. She knew exactly what Steve was trying so hard to do and she wasn’t going to fault him for his…poor delivery. “School’s been great for me. Better than being locked up in the Tower.”

“It’s good to have another girl around school. And someone else in the house,” MJ added. It was about as much positivity as she could put in on a day to day basis. It was good, though, Bucky had made real progress with her. She was less closed off now, and quicker to smile. It wasn’t perfect and her personality was naturally pessimistic but it was less like she had erected a castle around her heart and more like she was just a little - justifiably - wary.

“So being out of the Tower has helped?” 

“Totally. It’s been really good for me. It’s less about Tony now, though. I talked to him, you know, again.”

“You did?” Steve asked, dropping his pencil. MJ’s head turned too, her focus entirely on Wanda. This was a big thing. She’d told them before that she and Tony had ‘talked’ but it had only been short and to the point. To go again, out of choice, was definitely a big step. 

“Yeah, I told him that I forgive him.” Steve’s knee must have jerked because the pencil went flying off his lap, landing gently in the frost-bitten grass. “I think it was about time. I’ve forgiven so many other people, it was stupid that I was still holding it over him. I’m not sure…it still hurts, knowing what he did to my parents, but I know it wasn’t really him. And he’s working to redeem himself.”

“Is this about Loki?” MJ asked with a small crease between her eyebrows. 

“Not entirely. Seeing in his head, it did give me some perspective and maybe the last push but I’ve been thinking about doing this for ages.” 

“That’s great,” Steve said, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips. “I’m glad you two sorted things out. I know what it’s like to be…at odds with Tony, but he really is a good guy.”

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to get there.”

“Steve!” Steve’s head flung around, surprised to see Bucky waving him over. Apologising quickly, he left the two girls to chat, Peter now joining them, and sat next to Bucky. “If my hearing’s anything to go by,” Bucky said, “it seems we’re still doing the whole ‘talking’ thing so I thought I’d finally bring this up.”

“Is this about earlier again? Because I thought we’d-“

“We have. And it’s not about that. It’s about the gym. Yours. When you let us borrow it, I saw your punching bag. You said you’d stopped and maybe you did, the blood didn’t look fresh, but I wanted to check.”

It was the perfect opportunity for Steve to lie but he never could to Bucky, not when it mattered. Their friendship had been built on honesty, brutal sometimes, but honesty nonetheless. They weren’t going to throw that away now. “It was just once,” he admitted, “just before the pardoning.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, the bags under his eyes suddenly looking deeper as his gaze lingered on Steve’s. “Why?”

“It was all looking so bad. And I didn’t even want to think about you being taken away again.”

“So you punched it out of your head?”

Steve groaned. “It keeps me focused.” He stopped. If he’d finally got a therapist, Bucky thought, that would have been the moment Steve would have said something _productive_. Instead, he went for the usual defensive, “it helped me and it’s done so can we not talk about it?”

“I’m not attacking you,” Bucky reminded, as he had many times before, when Steve shut behind his walls and lashed out when Bucky tried to strip them down. “I just want to make sure you’re not hurting. Just like I want to make sure no one else is hurting you.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m glad. Just tell me if it’s feeling like that again? There are other options that aren’t beating the shit out of your hands.”

“You have such a way with words,” Steve joked, purposefully diverting them away from the topic. Bucky let him, if only because he didn’t want to have a full-blown screaming match in front of the team. He and Steve could become explosive if they went all in, which only ever seemed to happen when it was about one or both of them getting hurt.

“Of course I do, I had you for a role model.”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve griped.

“And you’re a menace,” Bucky said. Steve frowned. “And a punk. Why have you latched onto that one so hard?”

“I don’t know, it’s just what you used to call me.”

“I also used to call you a knuckle face and an idiot on the regular but you don’t seem sentimentally attached to _them_.”

Steve looked away but he didn’t have to say anything before it clicked for Bucky, as it usually did. Steve, despite his attempts at being more ‘talkative’, was about as reserved (and repressed) as it got. Bucky had had to learn a form of mind-reading, which was to use Steve’s stupid, inconsistent (yet all too internally consistent) logic on a train of thought until he finally picked it apart. 

“It was the last thing I called you before I shipped out. That it?”

“It’s just…” Steve stopped again. 

“You like to remember how we used to be. When you were…smaller. And I wasn’t so fucked up.”

“You’re not fucked up.”

“So you all keep saying.” Bucky smiled gently, catching Steve’s chin between his fingers and turning his head so they were staring intently at each other. “I get it. It’s nostalgic but we’ve had this talk before. No more being stuck in the past when we’ve got the whole future ahead of us.”

“I know.”

“You do. Now start believing it. Okay?”

“You go to too much therapy.”

“Hence why I’m so brilliant. Now, stop focusing on me and make sure no one’s going to kill anyone. I need to talk to Scarlet.”

“Sure thing.”

~*~

Another hour of chat took over their time in the forest. Something about that day just ran on and all of them seemed hesitant to stop it. Bucky and Wanda discussed something serious at the side of the green for a long time, both of them looking a little teary by the end of it, but all the stronger for it. The rest of the group figured out pretty quickly that it was about Tony. 

In the meanwhile, Steve got back to sketches, still a little awkward around Peter. MJ he now knew well and Wanda he’d been an Avenger with for a while now. Peter, on the other hand, had very little contact with Steve. They were friendly, sure, but they weren’t _friends_ and they certainly weren’t a team. And Steve, as much as he acted confident in front of crowds, was pretty much socially inept. Captain America could smile and blunder his way through conversations but _Steve Rogers_ , that man couldn’t act sane for his life, especially not around two people well-versed in the twenty-first century.

It was best he avoided it altogether. 

So that left Peter and MJ alone. 

Alone. 

Yes, alone. 

Which was just about all that was on Peter’s mind. Not that they hadn’t been alone together before. Not at all. It was just that every time he suddenly became distinctly aware of that singular fact, like he knew he was supposed to say something but just couldn’t quite make it.

“So…” MJ drawled, side-eyeing him ostentatiously. Peter swallowed. He really had no idea about girls and he had even less idea of what that meant. 

“So,” Peter repeated, rolling his lips. 

“How’s Spiderman-ing going?”

“Good, good. Um…lot’s of bad guys to catch.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re brilliant at conversation?”

“No, am I- oh, no, wait, sarcasm. Sorry, sorry. God, I’m rambling.”

“Yes, you are.”

Peter made terrified eye-contact with MJ but she was only smiling, the gentle curve to her lips shining in her eyes. Peter felt a little less like he'd swallowed a lung and more like his heart was going to beat just slightly out of his chest. 

“Hey, do you want to, maybe, sometime-“ Peter started but swallowed his words as soon as her eyes went wide. That meant something bad, right? She could be…he didn’t know, terrified. Maybe she was scared of having to reject him. Or maybe- “meet me in the library? To help me with my…English project.”

“What English project?”

“Oh…an extra one. Mrs Williams set it, for me, to catch up, because I’m falling behind.”

“Oh.” And was that…disappointment? “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Great, great! Can’t wait! Yeah, that’s great.”

How a boy could be so awkward with someone he’d been friends with for months was still beyond anyone.

Well, at least he tried. 

~*~

**THE WINTER SOLDIER REPLACING THE AVENGERS??**

_This Wednesday, The Winter Soldier - aka James Barnes - posted an Instagram picture of three masked vigilantes. Could he be trying to replace the Avengers?_

This Wednesday, The Winter Soldier - aka James Barnes - posted an Instagram picture of three masked vigilantes. It has been speculated that this is a new team to replace the Avengers. Whether the Avengers are aware of this is yet uncertain but there have been fears that the Winter Soldier is planning an attack on Stark Tower. Others say that this may be the New Avengers!…(read more)

~*~

Bucky stared bitterly down at his phone. “We’re not the New Avengers, we’re _better_ than the Avengers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels very weird to be writing about Christmas/Winter when it’s still Summer but oh well, I’m not good at syncing these things up. Thank you all so much for moving to the sequel. Sorry that it was so messy in doing so but I really appreciate it :) Comments are super welcome: critiques, criticism, love or ramblings. This fic has become very difficult for me lately and I’d just love to hear from you guys.
> 
> PLUS! Check out the new credits fic. If you've ever commented, you might just be on there!


	5. Loki III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now made this, partially, a collaborative project. So many of you have given me absolutely brilliant ideas so having now added a credits section, I really want to hear what you think could happen with the story next. 
> 
> I have the end of this arc and the rough outline of the next arc planned but nothing is set in stone and certain plans are *very* vague, so take the time to read this chapter to think of anything that springs to mind! :D
> 
> (For all you Americans out there: alcopop = malternative according to google and is sometimes called a spirit cooler. Hoorah for more drunk scenes!)

Christmas was a rush of family and friends. The team had gone their separate ways. Peter and Aunt May were having festivities at their apartment whilst MJ and Wanda celebrated with Angela and some extended family at their house. Bucky had offered for her to join the Avengers but she’d politely refused; Bucky couldn’t be happier about how easily MJ’s family had taken her in. 

The Avengers, on the other hand, had lunch as friends. It was loud, chaotic and little more than a drinking fest, in the end. Tony and Natasha got into their annual drinking competition (which Natasha inevitably won, although only by a single drink and Bucky suspected that was because she was able to swallow her own puke whilst Stark, despite his alcoholic tendencies, had learnt to try and purge his system). Clint and Bruce discussed inane topics whilst Vision tried to produce his small talk which, as always, careened into the deep end, bringing up awkward topics or social faux-pas, sending Bruce into a flustered mess whilst Clint cackled, his beer liberally pouring itself over the floor. So much for circus skills. In almost direct opposition, Thor and Loki had remained in one corner, discussing something with stern faces. Loki, for his part, looked all spit and vinegar, whilst Thor appeared to be trying to calm him down from throwing a fit.

That just left Bucky and Steve to watch the chaos, both pretty disappointed that they couldn’t just spend the day in bed. But, gifts were exchanged (surprisingly small this year, despite the audience) and they all went their separate ways by three o’clock, whether to their families or just their own company. Tony was taking the Iron Man suit to Malibu to celebrate with Pepper, who’d gone the day before Christmas Eve. Bruce holed up in the labs, whilst Clint disappeared to god knows where. Natasha was content to spend the rest of the day by herself, as was Vision, which left Thor and Loki to spend the rest of the day in a now tense silence. 

Bucky and Steve fled the scene, making it back to their small apartment in Brooklyn by four, giving them three hours until they had to meet the team back at the Tower. Bucky immediately collapsed onto the sofa, stretched over its entire length, and threw his arm dramatically over his eyes. 

“You alright?” Steve asked, a smile teasing the edges of his lips.

“Great. Just great.” Bucky peeked out from under his arm. “Could you bring my laptop.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Please.”

Smiling, and giving Bucky a small “of course”, Steve dutifully got Bucky’s laptop from the bedroom, opening it up for him and everything, and placed it on Bucky’s lap. Without anywhere else to sit, Steve sat cross-legged on the floor so his head rested next to Bucky’s, balancing precariously on the arm of the sofa. 

Bucky was quick to log in and followed his usual routine, opening up The Sims without thinking twice. Steve smirked. “How are things getting along?”

“Well, you and I are now married. And now we have _two_ dogs. So Sarge and a new Golden Retriever that I named Cap.”

“Original.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve just reached Level 10 of the Spy career.”

“Again, of course,” Steve teased.

“You’re a Level 7 Artist but you’ve completely mastered the skill.” He turned his head to Steve. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Steve agreed obediently. 

“You also set our apartment on fire so we moved to the countryside and now we have the space to adopt a kid.”

“Adoption?”

Bucky turned to Steve. “Yeah. I figure, with our situation, we can’t really do it in real life. But, you know, in an ideal world, I’d want to.”

“Me too,” Steve said, a pained smile pervading his face.

“One day. I hope so, anyway.” They caught on each other’s gaze and found themselves unwilling to let go but eventually, the tension had to be cut and Bucky faced the computer again. 

“So,” Bucky continued, “we’re now next door to Clint and his dog, Lucky. But you hate him after he tried to tell you a joke and you really didn’t like it.” Steve snorted. “Natasha’s still in the city so, obviously, she’s not our neighbour anymore. She has a romantic connection with a guy who works at a restaurant, though. Tony still lives in the penthouse with Pepper and they now have their third kid because, well, Tony would hate that. I called them Antoinette, Anthony and Anton.”

“He’d love that,” Steve said sarcastically.

“Of course. Bruce is still happily single but he’s a Level 8 doctor and has performed a few surgeries. Vision isn’t up to much. He keeps burning his garden down, though, because he keeps trying to use the BBQ but it fails, like, every time. Then Wanda is an A student and now has magic, which she’s practising. And MJ and Peter started flirting without me asking them to so if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.”

“Sounds like it’s going…well.”

“Yeah. It’s keeping me busy, anyway. It’s hard to play as all of them but it’s fun.”

“I know you love it.”

“All thanks to you, you bought it for me,” Bucky said, pecking Steve on the lips. “Now, let me waste a couple of hours and recoup before we meet the team.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m gonna go lie down for a bit. I think Christmas dinner is the one thing that can make me feel _full_.” Steve exited the room to the sound of Bucky’s laughter. Overall, it wasn’t a bad start to the day at all.

~*~

Bucky and Steve arrived at the Tower a little past seven, with wind-swept hair and cold hands that even the super-soldier furnace-bodies couldn’t remedy. As they went up, JARVIS informed him that only MJ and Wanda had arrived so far, leaving Peter to catch up with them. Ha, not last. (He _told_ Steve they weren’t going to be late).

Bucky had planned this out as best as he could. Instead of the gym, he chose their small conference room to hold their celebrations, although this morning he’d put a few surprises in the room. With the help of a few others, Bucky had removed the incredibly expensive table (which Stark defended was vital if he was going to annoy people by kicking the table; the sound travelled better in higher quality furniture. And yes, Stark was, in fact, just that petty. And honestly, Bucky thought it was kind of brilliant). With the biggest obstacle removed, they’d draped Christmas decorations over the whiteboard and drawn their own little doodles on the board which Bucky had captured for his Instagram collection (because who didn’t want to see Stark’s doodles of Thor tripping over his own cape) and then they’d put some more comfortable seating inside, including two leather recliners and some beanbags. All in all, they’d made themselves their own little Christmas-themed living area, perfect to catch up at the end of a tiring day. 

Bucky was already kind of conked out and was wavering somewhere between regret and anxiety about continuing the day at all. But he wasn’t going to let his team down, no matter how tired he was. And as always, the pre-anxiety was always much worse than the event itself.

“I like what you did with the place,” Wanda said as Bucky and Steve walked inside. 

“I’m glad. It took far too much fucking effort,” Bucky griped as Steve put the bag of presents down by the door and took his place on one of the recliners. Bucky took the spot next to him, perched on the armrest with his hand resting over the back. It made them look a bit like they were in a bad mafia movie but Bucky was comfortable so he’d just have to put up with it. And honestly, those people in mafia films looked _good_ , so Bucky wasn’t complaining, especially looking this good himself, wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans that were bordering on a garish red (but, well, red fit the Christmas theme). Steve, as usual, looked boring as shit in a white shirt and some slacks of indescribably plain colour. It seemed some things never changed. In the words of David Mitchell, Steve’s style could be described in a single quote: his appearance would be ‘in no way noteworthy but then again, not so un-noteworthy as to be in itself noteworthy’. It was a travesty. And anyway, there _may_ have been a few Christmas jumpers in their pile of presents for everyone (including each other) which would jazz everything up later. It would ruin Bucky’s attempts at biker-dude-chic but that was just the sort of sacrifice you made in the name of Christmas.

They kept up the small talk for another fifteen minutes before Peter came rushing in, balancing a precarious pile of presents in his arms, no doubt using his sticky hands to his advantage, whilst Aunt May watched the whole fiasco with a parental smile (a cross, Bucky had noticed, of love, adoration and absolute, irrevocable disappointment). He added them to the small pile they’d collected together and waved Aunt May goodbye, shouting one last thank you for a gift that none of the rest of them were yet privy to. 

“Am I the last one? _Again_?” Peter asked, just as someone knocked gently on the doorframe.

“I was wondering whether I may join,” Loki said from the doorway, hesitant over crossing the border. He looked different than he had this morning. The hair held back from his face in a braid revealed the slightly knife-like point to his cheekbones and nose whilst the loose clothing masked his lean figure. It was fashionable, though, all high end, pairing checkered, cropped slacks with a baggy white jumper, the brand label barely noticeable where the ‘pocket’ would have been on a shirt. It was classy and inoffensive but far more revealing than Bucky expected. 

Seemed he might have found someone else using fashion as a coping mechanism.

“Um,” Bucky said, then stopped. This would have been a good time for him to bring up his plan if not for the fact that he had not, in fact, figured out said plan. “I mean, I don’t mind,” he said honestly, “it’s the others’ say.”

At the silence, Loki sighed and reached behind him, using his magic to drag a large pile of presents in front of him. “I come bearing gifts.” Despite the hesitance, no one was going to deny gifts, even from a possible genocidal maniac. If they were awful then it could be goodbye for good, or so Bucky assumed the logic went. 

Steve looked distinctly displeased but kept his silence, for which Bucky was eternally grateful and would show his appreciation for later.

“I love your hair,” Wanda said first, eyes roving over the complicated twists and turns of Loki’s hair, partially hidden by just how dark it was. The braids were immaculate and well-placed, even more so than Bucky would expect from an Asgardian, who tended to wear braids to hold back the front of their hair but let the rest fall loose. This was almost the equivalent to a ballet bun, stretching Loki’s skin back in a poor mimicry of a face-lift and showed every flitter of emotion that passed over his face. At the back, Loki had pulled it into a small, low ponytail, a single daisy pushed through the elastic. It was sweet, Bucky thought, and very unexpected but maybe that was Loki’s tactic. No one really wanted to be mean to a guy with flowers in his hair (well, not here, anyway).

“Thank you,” Loki replied graciously. “I have not done this style in many years.”

“Could you show me how?”

“Of course. But it will take a lot of training. I can promise you, it did not look like this the first time I attempted it.”

“No problem. Nothing comes without practice.” Seemingly, that was enough for their ragtag team to accept Loki on Christmas Day (it was in the spirit of things, really). Peter and MJ kept up their usual awkward chatter, sometimes bringing Steve in as Bucky used the moment to just take in the room and have a bit of peace. He didn’t feel pressured to speak and felt never-endingly grateful that they knew him so well. They let him listen and other than that, only gave him a few knowing glances and small smiles. It was easy. 

Bucky split his time between listening to the inane chat and keeping an eye on Wanda and Loki, who had taken up the small area of beanbags in the far right corner. Wanda sat in one of them as Loki stood behind her, carefully wrapping strands of her hair around each other, instructing her through each step. Though it seemed that eventually, the instruction could only become repetitive so as Loki pulled her hair into tight braids, Wanda finally asked the question that had been on her lips for weeks.

“You said that I was connected to the Mind Stone.”

“Yes,” Loki said, “you are. Or your powers are. It’s why you and Vision are so linked.”

Wanda’s head whipped around, almost ruining the most recent braid if not for Loki’s quick reactions and long arms. Carefully and apologetically turning her head back around, Wanda continued. “So is that the reason I…like him. The stone? I wondered. Because, well,” Wanda stopped for a moment. “For an android, he does act very human.”

“He has sentience. Many species intermingle in this universe. You are no different. And that is not the reason you ‘like’ each other, as such. It simply means you have a connection, more magical than emotional.”

“Do you know what the stone is, then?”

“To an extent. I was given partial control over it for my time on Earth and I know about as much about it as I do the other stones.”

“How many are there?”

“Let me start from the beginning.” So he told them of the infinity stones. Somehow, Loki managed to entice the entire groups' attention as he went through each of the stones and the known range of their powers, even where some of them were now (which was, to say the least, probably something to be concerned about). It was a surprisingly succinct tale for something so important. 

“So that’s Thanos’ game is it?” Bucky asked. “To get the stones.” 

Loki nodded shortly, something broken cracking further behind his eyes. “Yes. He wishes to have them all and to…half the population of the universe.”

“What?!” Steve shouted, almost jumping out of his chair. “Why didn’t this come out sooner? We should be doing something.”

“Thanos cannot be stopped,” Loki intoned.

“So, what? We’re just going to let him kill half the universe?” Steve seethed.

“Of course not. We simply take away his means of collecting the stones.”

“But that’s not the only way he can kill populations,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his nose. He really didn’t want to ruin Christmas. “Can we leave this ’til tomorrow. I’ve had a really long fucking day and it’s Christmas and I just want to have fun. I know this is important but it can wait one day, _Steve_ , okay?”

“Fine. But tomorrow. This is important.”

“It is, now take it down a notch, okay?” Steve reluctantly agreed, losing a little bit of the tension around his shoulders. 

“Hey, Loki, you have any of that Asgardian alcohol stuff Thor had?” Bucky asked.

“I can procure it.”

“Good because you know what I think today needs: alcohol.” Coping mechanisms! (Healthy). 

“Except not for the teenagers that are _underage_ ,” Steve reminded sagely. Bucky ignored him. Alcohol. 

===

‘Rappin’ with Cap’ discarded script #129 found in Steven Grant Rogers’ Apartment 

_So you got drunk. Underage. Whilst this may have seemed like a good idea at the time, I can bet you were regretting it the next morning. That’s because alcohol is bad. Especially to a body as young as yours. So stay away from those harmful substances until you’ve grown._

Revision made by James Buchanan Barnes, date unknown: _So you got drunk. Underage._ Fun right? But probably stupid. _Whilst this may have seemed like a good idea at the time, I can bet you were regretting it the next morning._ Didn’t make it not fun, though _. That’s because alcohol is --_ fun _._ But please do not consume alcohol in a reckless and/or irresponsible manner. Moderation is key. And maybe it’s for the best if there’s an adult present. And parental approval is a pretty good thing to have too.. - Bucky (p.s. please stop teaching kids lessons they’ll never goddamn listen to. How the hell did they make you actually say this shit?).

===

“We’ll see,” Bucky responded cryptically. 

Loki left, Wanda trailing like a lost puppy after him, peppering him with questions as she fought to keep up with his long gait, meaning the rest of them had the room to themselves for a moment. 

“Um, are you guys okay with this?” Bucky asked. 

Peter and MJ both shrugged. MJ seemed genuinely impassive whilst Peter was already gnawing on his lip. “Pete,” Bucky emphasised, giving him an out the kid no doubt needed. He had bad enough anxiety in normal social situations, never mind introducing a new unknown. 

“I don’t mind. I’ll have to get used to him at some point, right?”

“Possibly. But that doesn’t mean it has to be right now. It’s Christmas, after all. We don’t want it to be stressful.” In Bucky’s opinion, Christmas was always stressful, but he wasn’t going to crush this kid’s dreams.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. He’s not really…in the way.” 

“If you’re feeling really anxious, just keep sticking Wanda on him. I think she’s fallen in love,” Bucky teased, letting himself lose a bit of the tension and lean back on the chair. 

For the next few minutes, they chattered about nothing, until Loki came back with some quirky looking bottles and Wanda with a bottle of alcopop in each hand. It was a dangerously vicious blue but who was Bucky to doubt a teenager’s alcohol choice. At least, looking at it, you knew it wasn’t going to be anywhere above 4%. 

Bucky, foolishly, did not ask what was in Loki’s bottle before taking a sip but it tasted pleasant enough and there were no immediate side effects except the things that were to be expected. Steve was more hesitant, visibly waiting a few minutes to see how Bucky was doing with his before even giving it a small sip. Steve wasn’t much into drinking anyway, not after being sober for so long and managing just fine (for the most part, anyway).

Loki, however, followed Bucky into the depths of hell.

Soon enough, the teenagers were decidedly bubbly, having a slightly clumsy game of rock, paper, scissors for reasons Bucky couldn’t yet decipher. Steve had pulled Bucky onto his lap in the biggest display of public affection they’d probably ever presented the team, Steve’s lips pondering over Bucky’s shoulder blade. Loki was laughing at some awful joke Bucky had come out with and immediately forgotten, caught up in the infectious laughter of a stoic god. All in all, alcohol had deemed itself pretty useful. 

Bucky sprawled himself further across Steve’s lap, a giddy smile stretching his face. Honestly, _this_ was freedom. Liberty. Whatever the fuck American was supposed to be. Fuck it! Bucky made the rules now.

...well...

…maybe he was a little drunk.

“You know what you humans lack?” Loki slurred, although he was still the most together drunk person Bucky had ever seen. If he wasn’t trained to see people’s quirks, Bucky would have probably thought he was sober. Except for the laughing maybe. But Loki’s laughter did sound a bit maniacal; if anything, it was in character. 

“What? And don’t say something mean.”

“Magic.”

“Wanda has magic,” Bucky argued. 

“She doesn’t have seidhr. She has something…human.”

“Still magic.”

“It’s not good magic.”

“Bet it’s better than yours.”

“Are you really willing to put something on such a silly bet?”

“Sure. I will…let you in the team, 100%, no questions, if you beat Wanda in…mind controlling me.” Oh god, he was so drunk. He was going to regret this so much in the morning. Worst thing about it, he already _knew_ he was going to regret it, he just hadn’t actually gotten to the point of regretting it yet. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. 100%.”

“Last chance to back out, Barnes.”

“I’m in.”

“Fine. You asked for it. Wanda?”

“What is it?” The girl answered, smiling brightly, looking lighter than Bucky had ever seen her. She had slipped her hair up into a bun, a black scrunchie with little pearls holding it together, making her look deceptively young. 

“Bucky here has placed a bet on who would win in a ‘magic’ contest. He has placed the condition that he will give me absolute access to a place in this team if I beat you in ‘mind-controlling’ him.”

“And you said yes?”

“Of course.”

“But he’s drunk!”

“All Asgardian bets are made whilst drunk.”

Wanda frowned. “But we’re not in Asgard. I’m not mind-controlling him because he ran his mouth.”

“But we’ve made a bet.”

“Fine. But, change of terms. Whoever can mind-control the other first to stop the _other_ from mind-controlling them wins.”

“And what do you wish for if you win?” Loki asked. God, he must have been really drunk to go along with this.

“More lessons. In magic. Mind control is my forte. Other things, not so much.”

“It’s a deal.”

“I could have-“ Bucky tried but Wanda cut him off with a snappish, “you’re drunk.” She was frowning but it wasn’t aggressive. In fact, Bucky could see the gleam in her eye that told him she was enjoying this whole event, even if she wasn’t going to let it go anywhere near Bucky. 

“You’re not allowed to do anything but try and make me stop,” she ensured, “same goes both ways.”

“Of course. Mind control is not something I think either of us wants to go through.”

“Not at all.” 

They’d grown an audience now, the entire team crowding around them to watch the magic show. Even Steve was leaning forward, his chin balanced on Bucky’s shoulder as he tried to hide his worry. 

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky slurred.

“How much have you had?” Steve asked. “That was really stupid. Don’t think you’re just getting away with it.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“The very fact that you’re saying that means you are.”

“I’m not! And if I _was_ , it would be because I haven’t been drunk in…like, seventy years. And drugs don’t count!” He felt obliged to add, turning Steve a dirty shade of red that usually meant he was repressing anger.

He hoped it was at Hydra and not him. That drug thing was kinda shit.

The beginning of the match didn’t start with a bang but with a whimper, or rather a small groan of effort as Wanda was struck by Loki’s magic, putting her effort into warding it off as she tried to match it with her own. The only thing visible to the naked eye was a hazy line where light seemed to blur, like looking far ahead on the road on a hot day. They all stared, eyes squinting at the silent spectacle, until, eventually, something in Wanda snapped.

“You cheated,” she accused immediately, frowning.

“Yes. I did.”

“Doesn’t that break the deal?”

“I don’t think so, no. That was never laid out.”

“What did he do?” Steve asked, perking up, ready to fight injustice at a moment’s notice, no matter how hasty his own judgements were (he was a beautiful idiot like that). “Did he force you to do something?”

“No, he _purposefully lost_.”

“I want to earn my place in this group, if you’ll ever take me. I will not win friendship on a bet.”

“Loki,” Wanda sighed, her frown turning quickly to despair. 

“We both know I need to earn it so that is what I plan to do.”

“And how’s that?” Steve asked, eyes narrowed. 

“I plan to change.”

“No one truly changes.”

“Then you are naive.” Loki frowned but there was something broken behind his eyes. Bucky knew, in that moment, that despite Loki’s bravado, he agreed with Steve, but there was still a desperation there, anything to escape the world he’d made around himself. “Everyone changes.”

“It’s true,” Bucky added, suddenly feeling a lot soberer. A part of him was probably just letting himself get drunk for the sake of it; it was barely difficult to snap out of now that his system was metabolising it. “I did.”

“You were changed,” Steve argued. 

“Then look at yourself. Think about how much you’ve changed.”

“I’d like to think my core values are the same.”

“Because you’re a stubborn idiot. It’s not the same for a lot of people. Now, we need to stop being depressing. If this much alcohol isn’t working, it seems we need _more._ ” Okay, still not all that sober then. 

Before Steve could stop him, Bucky started on Steve’s drink, motioning at the two magicians again. “Magic lesson numero uno.”

Bucky, when asked the next morning, would say that things were a little hazy after that. Not…blank. He _knew_ blank. Just when he tried to bring them to the surface, they weren’t quite there. Just…blurs.

The next thing he remembered was standing in the middle of the room, arms thrown in the air, screaming “THE FLOOR IS LAVA!”

“But there’s nothing on the floor I can stand on!” Peter panicked, as the only person not on a beanbag or recliner other than Bucky. 

“Sure there is,” Bucky shouted, diving into Steve’s lap, grinning like a fool. In a complete and utter panic, Peter followed suit, landing himself directly in MJ’s lap on the left beanbag, a furious red blush spreading over his cheeks and down his chest.

“Um…hi?”

“Hi, Peter.”

“Do you want me to get off you?”

MJ shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m comfortable.”

“O-okay.”

“We really need to talk about your professionalism,” Steve huffed, giving Bucky _a look_. Bucky, perpendicular to Steve with his legs splayed out over the side of the chair, his head balancing precariously on the edge of Steve’s shoulder, gave him back just as indignant a look.

“And why would I need that? It’s Christmas.”

“You’re their mentor. Aren’t you supposed to set an example?”

“We’re a _team_ ,” Bucky emphasised, “no one said I was the leader.”

“But you’re definitely their mentor.”

Bucky hummed and hawed but eventually realised Steve had backed him into a very easy corner. “ _Fine_ , but it’s fine. I’m the fun one. You can be the strict dad who gives them all the lectures and stuff. You’ve already given Peter _hundreds_.”

“I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Did we?”

“How about I bring up a certain you-know-who who made a certain thing on TV about you.”

“You said you wouldn’t bring that up,” Bucky said with a toddler-like frown.

“Exactly.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You too, jerk.”

Bucky waited a couple of seconds before reluctantly returning it with, “punk.”

“Did Bucky just call Steve our dad?” MJ asked.

It blurred again after that, coming to with his foot on the door, kicking it open with a deafening slam. “PARKER!”

“JESUS!” Peter shouted, hand held over his rapidly beating heart.

“When did you even go outside?” Wanda muttered. MJ remained straight-faced, though her eyes were noticeably wider than usual. She’d definitely jumped; she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t.

“Nah, just me,” Bucky slurred, leaning against the doorframe, his phone held up in front of him. “Can you explain this meme?”

Only Peter remembered which meme it was, Bucky didn’t want to ask.

Then it was what must have only been a few minutes later that Bucky was adding to their collection of drawings with something decidedly crude whilst MJ drew something much more...tasteful next to him. Peter was staring at him wide-eyed but was definitely holding back a laugh whilst Wanda kept trying to snatch the pen from him. The last thing he remembered was the fizzle of magic prying the pen from his fingers.

The next and final time he came to, his drink was finally being taken away. It was nearly empty anyway but Steve had finally had enough. The next hour was spent sobering up, making awkward apologies to a bunch of amused teenagers and having an intense staring contest with Loki when _one of them_ claimed that _something_ may have happened which _definitely didn’t_. (No one would ever know).

By the time the evening was rolling into the night and people’s eyelids started slipping, it was finally time for presents. It would have happened earlier if Bucky had not...

Oh fuck, he was going to be in trouble, wasn’t he? He hadn’t been in trouble for drinking since his ma found him with his dad’s bottle of whiskey when he was fourteen and that was rightful because it had been a _stupid fucking idea_. 

They put it behind them, though, settling in for a much quieter version of Christmas. Loki, somehow, had magicked them up a fireplace, a crackling fire bathing the usually sterile room in warmth and glowing, amber light. Wanda had used her magic to transfer the presents into a pile in front of them, separating the stacks into recipients, smiling as Loki took her through mathematical models that could be used in sorting systems to make it more efficient. Steve looked the most bored Bucky had ever seen him but it didn’t matter, Bucky was just as rapt, listening to the explanation with unrivalled attention. 

Bucky really needed to get back in the classroom; he’d really forgotten how much he loved maths.

Finally, Steve broke his attentiveness with a rather urgent, “maybe we should get around to actually opening the presents?” Bucky regretfully agreed and they all took their spots on the floor by the fireplace, except for Steve, who was already sitting in the only close recliner. Bucky dragged over a beanbag and placed himself at Steve’s feet causing Loki to use his magic to bring over the recliner and take a seat himself, which only urged Wanda to do the same with the final beanbag. So rather, it was Peter and MJ on the floor, huddled as close to the fire as was humanly possible, whilst the others watched from slightly further away.

“Who goes first?” Steve asked.

“Peter,” Bucky said. “Let the teenagers all open their presents first.” 

From there on, it was all rather simple. There were stupid jumpers from Steve and Bucky and socks from Wanda, which each had a stupid Christmas-themed character saying swear words (Steve looked like he was trying to hold down a laugh whilst he attempted to be stern about inappropriateness). MJ had gotten them each a sarcastic card and some chocolates/sweets, depending on the person. Meaning Peter, Bucky and Steve got chocolates whilst Wanda got a packet of fizzy, strawberry straws. Loki didn’t seem to mind being left out of the proceedings. Despite the pile of presents he came in with, none of them had appeared in the piles, so he seemed content to stay out of it for now.

They moved on through the team, revealing that Peter had gotten everyone the exact same thing as MJ, meaning everyone was likely to have cramping stomachs by the end of the day. No one seemed to mind.

They got through Steve easily and that left Bucky. He opened the presents quickly, thanking them all as he went, gleefully putting on his own black sweater, a large Santa Claus posing in the middle like a vogue model with a little text bubble saying “It’s Christmas, Bitch.” It didn’t make sense, which was probably why Bucky loved it so much. 

Then, Steve turned, something curious on his face. “What is it?”

“Well, I sort of got you another gift.”

“Sort of?”

“Fine, I got you another gift.”

“Steve-“

“Don’t. I know it’s too much but,” he paused, lips dragging up into a sappy smile, “I think you’re gonna really love it. And, if anything, it’s for both of us.”

“You’ve made me curious.”

“Great. Now give me a minute.” Steve fled the room, leaving Bucky a little more than confused. “Do you guys know what’s going on?” A chorus of nods. “Loki?”

“Why should I know the Captain’s plan?”

“Between you and Natasha, I think you know everything.”

“The Black Widow _is_ smart.”

“That she is,” Bucky said, smiling proudly. Training her wasn’t exactly a highlight of his life, nor was it something that he was particularly proud of, but seeing the woman she was today, he was proud of what she’d done for herself. 

It was barely another few moments until Steve was coming back into the room, a box with a few dozen holes in the top in his arms. “Here,” he said proudly, holding the box out. Cautiously, Bucky took it from him, setting it down on the ground, opening up the top with his metal arm, only to find a metal cage inside.

“Wha-“ Then he pulled it up.

“Meow.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed, then turned to Steve. “That’s a cat.”

“It is a cat.”

“We have a cat now?”

“Hopefully.”

“When did you do this?”

“Last week. She’s been staying in my apartment upstairs, all the stuff for her is there too. I haven’t named her yet, thought you could do the honours. All I can tell you is that she’s pretty calm but gets aggressive around people, hence why no one was adopting her. But I thought, you know who wouldn’t care…”

“She’s perfect.” Bucky opened up the cage, eyes full of childish wonder. She had pristine white fur and a nose that was always pointed at the sky. Bucky could already tell she was going to be haughty and spoiled and he couldn’t think of anything better. For some reason, Bucky had never expected a cat. Always a dog. Steve loved dogs. Bucky loved both, equally, _a lot_. 

He was going to have to make sure their sims versions adopted a cat now.

Alpine, specifically.

Yes. Between the white fur, the tipped nose and the push from his therapist to start overlaying some of the bad things in his head with better things, she was going to be Alpine.

“Alpine,” he said aloud, the word seemingly the only one left in his head. “Her name is Alpine.”

Bucky hadn’t touched her yet, only opened the cage but finally, Alpine had made her way out of the darkness, padding slowly towards Bucky. Tentatively, she raised a paw onto Bucky’s leg and he let her hold it there, not moving an inch. Then, as if she was a climbing frame, she just made her way to the top, wrapping herself easily around his shoulder, head tucked against his neck.

“So much for aggression,” Steve muttered. 

“What was she like for you?” Bucky whispered, not wanting to disturb the now sleeping cat on his shoulder. It failed. Almost immediately, she skittered away under the recliner, her blue eyes shining among the darkness. “Shit,” he muttered. “Guess she’s skittish of the new surroundings.”

“She…um, didn’t like me so much,” Steve admitted, scratching his neck. “But I’m sure she’ll come ‘round.”

“Of course she will. She’s a good girl,” Bucky said, knowing that the future tense could very well mean ten years rather than a few weeks, especially if Alpine took after her two dads: stubborn asses as they both were.

As Bucky laid down, eyes deferentially cast downwards to coax Alpine out towards him again, Loki finally stood up, a pile of presents appearing next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.

“You really need to teach me that,” Wanda muttered. 

“Just a simple transportation spell. You’ll pick it up very quickly.” Wanda smiled brightly, catching MJ and Peter’s eyes, the smile dropping to something more cautious. But of course, no matter _who_ was in the room, their team was built on trust and support and instead of the usual hesitancy, Peter and MJ only smiled back.

And honestly, who was going to complain that Wanda was learning magic when it probably (definitely) could help _them_ out too. No one wants to have to carry stuff. _Everyone_ wants someone to be able to teleport stuff.

Everyone. 

“On another matter, these are for you.”

“But we didn’t get you anything,” Steve said, eyes still narrowed but slowly losing their anger in favour of something more…wary.

“This is not an exchange, merely something to prove to you that my journey is starting from now. Truly, anyway. I plan to prove myself and I start by presenting you each gifts, including the Captain, though I am entirely unsure of your position in the team.”

“He’s an auxiliary member,” MJ stated. “And the art teacher.”

“Art. A man of many talents then.”

Steve was still incredibly wary as he answered, “yes, I guess you could say that.”

Loki sighed, his attention still on Steve. “I would also like to take this opportunity to apologise. You fought me directly and for that, I know you will always see the worst side of me. I am no doubt unworthy of your forgiveness but I plead for your cordiality. I hope to make amendments and although I do not know if it is possible with you, I wish for that not to linger over either of us moving forward.”

“Me neither. But maybe that will be something for the future.”

Loki nodded sedately. “Of course, Captain.”

“You can still call me Steve, though. Outside of work, the only person that calls me Captain is Tony and that’s just to piss me off.”

“As you wish, Steve. And I would like to start with your gift.”

Steve didn’t argue, though he didn’t particularly show anything on his face as he took the pristinely wrapped parcel from Loki’s hand. It was a small box, almost too small. Steve could easily fit it in the palm of his hand, the dark green wrapping paper shining as he tilted it towards the light. 

“Stop staring at it and open the goddamn thing,” Bucky complained, spooking Alpine back into her hiding spot. He sighed but seemed content enough when Steve started peeling the paper back. 

Inside was a small box with no decipherable writing on top, just a gold symbol engraved in the otherwise endless black. Asgardian, Steve would guess, but had nothing to back it up with. 

Hesitantly, he opened the box too, revealing a bracelet inside. “It’s pure Asgardian gold,” Loki explained. “Although it’s gold in colour, it is not the same metal found on Earth. It is far stronger and more durable and is used in most of our armour. I have also imbued it in magic so it will call to your shield, or rather anything of a vibranium compound, since I didn’t have access to the specific shield, so be cautious around certain things.” Loki caught Bucky staring at his arm. “Your arm is predominately adamantium so I wouldn’t be worried.”

Steve put the bracelet on, albeit cautiously. “It’s heavy,” he noticed, holding his hand out as if testing its weight. “Sorry, I should be thanking you. This is…very kind of you.” Even talking to what he believed was an A-grade villain couldn’t stop Steve’s Depression-inspired gratefulness. 

“Your welcome. Now, Peter, this is yours,” Loki said, giving over a large but relatively shallow box, in the exact same pattern as Steve’s. Peter opened his just as hesitantly, although with a lot more curiosity, pulling out a large piece of cloth. “It’s a cloak that can make you invisible, as long as any part of it is touching you.” 

“Like Harry Potter,” Peter whispered, awe-full.

“But better, because you just have to be touching it,” MJ pointed out. 

The cloak itself was a deep black, something that would look unapologetically startling until Loki leant forward, his hand grasping the material, suddenly turning it to a shimmering air-like consistency. 

“Did that do something?” Peter asked.

“For everyone else, that piece of fabric is now invisible. Go on, touch it.”

Then Peter disappeared. It was pretty amazing. 

“Wow,” MJ breathed, reaching out for it herself, disappearing out of existence. 

“Oh my god, MJ’s invisible,” Peter’s voice said, seemingly from nowhere. 

“So are you,” MJ deadpanned, but she was smiling as she let go of the cloth. 

“It has to be recharged with magic at regular intervals. I will teach Wanda the spell but I am also willing to help, and train you to use it. It may seem good now but it can be impossibly impractical without the right training. The major concern is that it is not localised to you so if your enemy touches it, they are as invisible as you are. I could change that, given time together, but for now, it is as it is.”

Bucky wondered how it worked. If everything touching it turned invisible, shouldn’t the floor turn invisible too? How did it distinguish between people and clothes? How did-

Bucky chalked it up to magic. For now, anyway.

“Thank you,” Peter breathed, something odd in his expression as he looked up at Loki. “This is really amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. I hope it will help you in your…nightly routine. Now, Wanda.” He handed her a large box that was heavy enough that Wanda had to support it with her magic as she put it on the floor. She lacked the hesitancy everyone else had, ripping the paper to shreds as she opened up the package.

Books. Lots of them.

The ones on top seemed to be some sort of starter books for Asgardian children in the art of magic but quickly spanned into more complex and specific books, all on magical related topics. “I thought they would be useful in your learning. I can help you through them but they aren’t too hard to parse once you get used to the lexicon.” 

“This is amazing. And I’d love your help. This will make a big difference.”

“You are a powerful sorceress, albeit one with a curious source and a surprising lack of training. With training, you could be ultimately one of the most powerful magicians in this universe.”

Wanda’s eyes widened as the rest of theirs did. “Really?”

“Very much so. Now, MJ,” Loki said, diverting almost irritatingly quickly again. For all that he was pretending to be comfortable, Bucky could tell just how out of place the man felt. At a thousand-years-old, he was no doubt a perfected actor but he hadn’t seemed to yet grasp the concept that usually came with age: it’s much better to care less when it comes to other people. And that care, that desperation for approval, showed in the details. The way Loki’s eyes flickered between them, taking in their reactions carefully, double-checking to see if they changed as he moved on; the tension in his shoulders that couldn’t just be natural, regal positioning; the way his fingers kept flexing and his arms kept shifting like they didn’t quite know what to do.

By now, Bucky’s eyes were off the cat, giving Alpine the time to come out. It wouldn’t matter much anyway; they were only going to repeat this once they got home again. He watched MJ open her present, his eyes periodically switching back to Loki, with no discernable reaction. (If the situation was any different, Bucky would start training her up to be a spy). But even she couldn’t hide her pleased shock as she took out the art supplies inside.

“I have noticed you like to sketch and whilst on Asgard sketching is predominantly only used scientifically or for professions such as architecture, we have many tools to help us. There are also some tools for other traditional art mediums in Asgard if you would like to try them. They are not entirely dissimilar to Midgardian tools but you will find some perks. Our pencils are like your pens. They don’t reduce in size, only in their so-called ‘ink’, and they’re not graphite. We have paper that is lit up so you can draw when it is dark without adjusting lights. Almost like one of your Starkpads but for drawing. Just to name a few.”

“Woah.” MJ didn’t seem to have any other words. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m sorry if it comes across forward but I did do some initial…research when I first arrived on Midgard and noticed that you drew a lot. It only seemed fitting. I can imagine you are a very good artist. If you are ever willing, I would love to see your work.”

MJ’s eyes only widened further. “Um…of course. That would be fine. I think.”

“Now, Bucky,” Loki said, seemingly having no answer for the almost cryptic reply. He handed over the last box, which was only a small bit larger than Steve’s. Which made sense upon opening it. Inside it was the same box Steve’s had as well as a few bottles of Asgardian booze (spirits, he was told, not their mead) and a small envelope.

“If you are generous, I ask that you not open the letter here but at home.”

“Of course,” Bucky said, tucking the letter away as he reached for the box that matched Steve’s. Inside, was the exact same bracelet except this time, it was in silver. 

“It also calls to vibranium, in case you are in danger and-” he seemingly swallowed a word, “ _Steve_ is unable to get the shield himself. Like the gold, it is not the same as Midgardian silver, despite the colour. It is almost identical to our gold in everything but colour. It’s known to be used by warrior’s outside of Asgard’s army. Brave soldiers who fight for themselves, rather than their country. Though it is not as much of an honour as being a part of the royal armies, it is seen as one of the most adventurous and challenging professions. I have always thought it was far braver.”

“Wow,” Bucky said, “that’s…I’m not really sure I have the words but it’s definitely good.”

“I’m glad.”

“You know you didn’t have to do this, Loki.”

“Of course not. But I think it will make more sense once you have read the letter. For now, I will say that I pledge my allegiance to you and your team and I wish to help you in whatever way I can whilst pursuing the path towards a better life.”

“That’s…quite a pledge.”

“And one that comes in full honesty.”

“Well then, Loki,” Bucky said, smiling widely, “welcome to a second chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know, this isn’t actually an accurate representation of The Sims 4 in 2015 because Pets of course wasn’t out then etc but I JUST WANT TO GIVE THEM FICTIONAL DOGS, OKAY? (And not so fictional cats, yayay!) Also, the credits section now has fic recommendations if you want some :) It’s a fairly comprehensive list!


	6. Intermission III: Loki’s Letter (and a new chapter in their lives)

Dear James Buchanan Barnes,

I, Loki - by many names but as of now, in the first step to fight for my own personage, have taken my mother’s name - Friggason, hereby pledge my allegiance to you in my quest to find betterment within my life and to repair my past actions, numerous and large as they were. 

My first step is this letter where I not only pledge to serve but also endeavour to apologise for a life of misgivings that I can never truly take back. My many actions have been driven by greed and jealousy and for that, I have no excuse. This was twisted by a madman for his own purpose but in no way made by him. Not only is this inexcusable but it is not something I can come back from, however I try. Instead, today, I start again. I may not be able to clear the page but I may, I hope, turn it over. 

On Midgard, change is not rare, it is a given. Short lifespans should not give time for such endeavours yet they are common. Your media show stories of redemption and change whilst on Asgard, a warrior changed from his ideals is a traitor. I have lived longer than any mortal yet I have made none of their progress so today I take inspiration from Midgard, a planet I had once thought nothing of, and am taking the first steps to do so myself. 

I am a new man. Although this cannot cure me of my past abhorrence, it can be a step towards doing so. I cannot promise this will be instant or perfect but in my servitude, I ask you to guide me through this process as one who says they have done it themselves. For now, all I can do is attempt to explain, to prove to you that this journey is not for nought. 

For all my life, my adoptive father taught me a world divided by race. This is in no way specific to Asgard but in so many ways, it feels like truly something else there. Their enemies are foreigners on different planets, often ones that have no way to communicate with the Asgardian people, nor have a chance to defend themselves. Because of this, I have been taught to hate. I have been taught to hate my own people, my own flesh and blood. It brought me into a life of superiority, one where I could only believe that my place was above others. I believed I had a birthright and although, in the end, that was as true as the rest of it, it was for a throne I didn’t want in a land I’d never been.

I am a product of my own country’s arrogance, as is Thor. His banishment to Midgard had been his cure; it brought about a change seen impossible by many. Never have I seen so much of him and been glad to see it; he has grown. Seeing this, I can only hope to grow too. Thor grew from arrogance, just as I must, but I must also move on from my jealousy. I must stop this comparison that has followed me in life.

Asgard is no more and I can no more desire to be its king as I can return. So my true battle has been won by default, but it has equally been lost. I mourn my country and my kingdom, but something dark in me is glad. Glad for my past to be banished into nothingness, glad to see a country so corrupt on power finally fall. Without my ambitions to become king, I can turn to something else. 

I am a sorcerer, first and foremost. And among a sorcerer’s tasks are to take an apprentice. And with your permission, I hope to take Wanda as mine. She is as powerful in magic as she is in mind. I can see in her eyes the losses she has suffered, yet she still holds her head high. In many ways, she reminds me of myself, untainted by the race for the throne my father pushed upon me; she holds the same pain. 

We are all connected by pain. I can see it in your team, the way it binds you together. Maybe that is why I believe your words when you offer a place. I do not believe I deserve it but I have always been a selfish being, have always believed others of being selfish too, and will not turn down such an undeserved opportunity.

I am grateful and I will show you this; I am hoping the Christmas presents are a mere start. I will show this by proving that my past is to be left behind in the rubble of my world. To show humanity that even gods can change. 

I cannot rid myself of my bad qualities but I can tame them and overwhelm them with many new good ones. That is what I often see is the difference between good and evil. It is not pure, nor is it black and white. It’s a tipping scale, where the motivation to do one or the other is held in careful equilibrium until it is time to act and then one must be pressed down upon. I believe good is a choice. I believe I can make such a choice. 

I think you believe that too, otherwise I cannot fathom your motivations.

Yours sincerely,

Loki Friggason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments, kudos and subscriptions are so well loved. I'd love to hear you ideas but will also happily listen to any ramblings, confessions, opinions or rants. I love to speak with you guys!


	7. Intermission IV: What Happened To The Pink Jumper (and why sentimentality is a curse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, Grammarly gave this 99/100. Why does Grammarly suddenly like me? It usually hates me. It’s probably because it’s short… (why do I put so much of my confidence in Grammarly XD It's a broken app)

Bucky woke up to a feeling that he hadn’t felt since 1943. A true and proper, harsh and cold, _hangover_. Steve was already well awake, the smell of coffee filling the apartment with its bitter scent as it, for the first time ever, brought Bucky to gagging. The scent was as thick as it was clogging and seemed even more present than it usually was with enhanced senses. As was the noise. Despite Steve being a room over, the mix of his brain being utterly terrible and also far beyond usual human capabilities, each small clang of dishes or each thudding footstep sent Bucky reeling, his own groans like poison to his ears.

 _Ugh_.

This was going to be an awful Boxing Day. Not that it was even an important day but it _was_ a day that could have been relaxing and fun, just him and Steve with nothing else to do…

Now, he didn’t even want to think about moving.

A knock on the door. Fuck, it hurt. “Buck?”

“Leave me to die,” he groaned, flipping over and smothering himself in the pillow. How was this even real? He was sure he sobered up before he slept. Maybe he should have drunk more water. Wait, did he start drinking again when he got home…?

“Now who’s dramatic,” Steve said pointedly, walking into the room to place a glass of water on Bucky’s side table. 

“It’s deserved. Everything hurts.”

“Self-inflicted, I promise you.”

“I hate you.”

“Of course you do. You gonna be okay?”

“No. I’m going to die.”

“Sounds good. Now, I have painkillers.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Bucky finally crawled out towards the edge of the bed and slowly levered himself into a sitting position, hastily throwing the painkillers back and gulping at least half a pint of water. “Fuck, my stomach.”

“You going to be able to hold anything down?” Bucky shook his head. “Okay, fine, but you’re gonna have to try later.” Bucky nodded. “Now, what’s happening with today’s session? It’s already eleven.”

“Fuck.” Bucky slid his hands down his face. “I can’t let them down again.”

“Somehow, I don’t think they’re expecting you.”

“I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“No worse than that time with Angie.”

Bucky suddenly seemed a lot more awake. He glared at Steve with poisonous eyes. “Nothing can be worse than that time with Angie.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“I remember all the _worst things in my life_.”

“So what? Hydra now equates to Angie Salvin?”

“No, Angie was _worse_.”

“Glad to see you’ve kept some perspective,” Steve said, smiling through the utter morbidity of the entire exchange. “Again, I don’t want to press but what’s happening today?”

“You _totally_ want to press. But I don’t know. I might just…push it back.”

“Fine but you should message them soon.”

“Ugh.” But Bucky wasn’t going to let them down again so instead of his preferred method of spending the day, he reached for his phone and started formulating a message.

===

 _(Instagram DM)_ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_1 active now._

_Today: 11:02am_

Because I appear to have some major personal flaws that I have yet to address with my very lovely therapist/life coach, I am going to be showing up four hours late with the biggest vat of coffee I can find. I hope you can find it within yourselves to forgive me.

PP: lololol. See you around 3?

MJ: I’m proud.

WM: Don’t worry I forgive you x

===

Bucky would like to say that he was ashamed of what happened yesterday but at their responses, the expected guilt just didn’t rise up. Well, maybe another day. And, really, after Angie, _nothing_ could shame him.

“Done,” Bucky sighed, dropping his phone onto the bed where he’d no doubt struggle to find it later. Steve laughed and sat down beside him, his eyes soft, a sight that probably seemed so un-Steve to anyone that wasn’t Bucky. Steve, admittedly, was not a soft person. He was abrasive, forceful, opinionated and stoic. Yet with Bucky, there was something else there, something soft and kind and optimistic. It was the hidden traits of Steve Rogers, the ones that truly drove those dastardly surface level quirks. 

“You think you can get to the sofa at least? It’s not good to stay in bed all day.”

“I’ll have you know that I love staying in bed all day.”

“Then do it for me. We can watch something on TV. Minimal effort.”

Bucky pouted.

“That’s not an answer.”

Bucky pouted further.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Come on,” Steve declared, “out.” Steve turned his back to Bucky and towards the wardrobe, opening it with a flourish. Already, he was stumped. “Why do you have so many clothes, Buck? Where do you even keep your lounge clothes?” Bucky didn’t answer that; he wasn’t really sure he knew. A lot of his organisation was more instinctual than anything purposeful. 

Steve started rummaging regardless, trying to find anything suitable, when another shadow came in through the doorway. 

“Alpine!” Bucky whisper-shouted, hesitant to spook the cat. She hadn’t made her way into the bedroom yet, mostly sticking to her place under the TV table, only coming out to eat her food. She steered well clear of Steve, even hissing at him as points, but seemed pretty content with Bucky’s company, curling up by his thigh for just a few minutes before he’d passed out last night. 

The cat trotted in, head held high, and looked up at the bed. She was old enough to jump up and had the training that they didn’t have to worry too much about accidents on the bed - she was adopted late, Steve had told Bucky, after the last family’s kid had started showing allergies - so Bucky waited her out. And eventually, he proved successful as Alpine’s perfectly white paws landed on the sheet and slowly padded their way over to him.

She blinked up at him with big blue eyes then carefully put herself in Bucky’s lap.

He’d never felt so happy in his life.

And at the exact same moment, Steve made a rather loud sound of grief. “What is it?” Bucky asked. “I’m having a moment.”

“You still have this?” Steve turned around, a very familiar pink jumper held out in front of him. The jumper was still the same as it had been that day; that was to say, completely stained brown, the fluff coagulating into a matted mess. 

It was the very same jumper Bucky had worn on the day he met Peter.

A day, he would admit, that probably changed the course of his life a lot. _A lot_.

“You should really throw this out.”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s ruined.”

“No.”

“I know I’m not a fashion expert but I’m pretty sure coffee stains aren’t a good look. Then again, if people like ripped jeans…” 

“No, it’s not a fashion,” Bucky interrupted, hand carefully laying itself on Alpine’s back. Without the resistance he’d feared, he started to slowly stroke her, barely holding back his grin when a purr emanated from her fluffy form. “It’s just…sentimental.”

“It’s ruined.”

“It’s sentimental.”

“What could be sentimental about a stained jumper?”

They stared at each other in a silent stare-off. Finally, Bucky relented. “It was the one Peter ruined on the day I met him. It just…it means a lot. A lot changed that day.”

“Huh.” Steve took a second look at the jumper. “Does this really have to be the memento, though?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

“Well, for one, it stinks. Did you even try to wash this?”

“No. It wasn’t going to help that mess.”

Steve sighed. “It’s going to go mouldy. If it hasn’t already.”

“No, it won’t.” 

“It will-“ At that very moment, Alpine leapt off Bucky’s lap and off the bed, straight into the wardrobe. It was like everything moved in slow motion, their eyes followed her, and captured her just as she started attacking a...rat.

A _goddamn_ rat.

“See?!” Steve shouted, rather hysterical. “It’s not just mould. It attracted a fucking rat!”

“You don’t know it was that!”

“What else in this wardrobe would attract a rat?!”

In the meanwhile, Alpine was visibly enjoying the chase, hurrying after the rat as it finally fled the wardrobe. Silence fell. Steve turned to the door. “Should we help her?”

“Do you want to go kill a rat?” Bucky asked pointedly.

Steve sighed. “Not at all.”

“Then we let her go kill the rat.”

“This is your fault. I’m washing this. We can keep it, but we’re washing it.”

…

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, everything is appreciated! Feel free to leave whatever you feel like below. I take criticism, ideas, grammar points...etc. Or just rambling. Love to hear from you :D


	8. Loki IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. Not too sure how I feel about this chapter but don’t worry, we’re getting to more interesting things soon. And hopefully some more humour again!

Saturday evening, Bucky dragged himself to their session with less rigour than usual (which said lots). What was often an anxiety-fuelled trip turned into something more akin to a sluggish drag across Brooklyn and into Manhattan, his brain hissing at him to get away from the noises and the smells and…

Oh god, he was going to be sick.

It was his lucky day when he made it to the Tower with the minimal food he’d consumed (i.e the soup Steve had force-fed him whilst ranting about hygiene in the apartment) still in his stomach. He loped inside, his face gaunt but presentable, a baggy black jumper hanging off him like he had suddenly lost six stone. He was still in his sweats, too, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be ashamed. He looked like a wreck. He was a wreck. Even his hair, usually half passable, had scruffily been tied into a low ponytail that both didn’t suit him and was going to make his hair hell to brush later on.

Overall, he was feeling  _ great _ .

Enough so that it turned heads when he walked into the conference room, the dark circles under his eyes suddenly feeling more pronounced as the beating of his heart started to tap at his chest. Fuck, now was not the time for inexplicable anxiety too.

Wasn’t life  _ brilliant _ ? 

(Okay, yes, he was being melodramatic.  _ Sue him _ .)

“You okay?” Peter asked dubiously as Bucky fell into his seat. 

“Feel like shit,” he grunted, half closing his eyes before he decided to try and do the right thing and heaved himself upwards and tried to focus on his team. “But that doesn’t matter. I needed to have a chat with you guys.”

“Is it a good idea when you’re this hungover?” MJ asked.

“Probably not but I don’t want to delay it. I need to know what you guys are thinking about Loki. The truth, nothing else.”

“I think you know where I stand,” Wanda said gently, though her eyes were worried. Only she had the insight into Loki and was balancing a precarious line between gaining their trust and not betraying Loki’s. Bucky wouldn’t push her but he wondered whether her coming clean with everything she’d seen would push the others in her direction.

Apparently, she didn’t need to.

“I…” Peter paused for a moment, wringing his hands. “I think he deserves a second chance. I don’t know if I forgive him, really, I don’t know. It’s just…isn’t that the point of this superhero-ing thing. Saving people but also trying to stop people from getting hurt in the future. And if Loki having a change of heart saves people then we should help him.”

“I second,” MJ said. “And the stuff he got me is awesome.”

“And they say money can’t buy friendship,” Bucky deadpanned.

“Life is shit, might as well make the most of it.” At that, Bucky managed a laugh but stopped it short at the noise; it felt like Alpine had just dug her claws into his eardrums. At least he knew he wasn’t so anxious that he couldn’t even capture levity. Although at this point, he was sure he was just going to jump into the void and not return.

His therapist would say this was a dangerous way of thinking.

It definitely was.

Maybe he should book another session sooner.

Maybe this was just his melodramatic ass not being able to handle a hangover…

Oh, who cared.

“So we’re all in for giving him a second chance?” The group nodded, an eclectic amalgamation of expressions on their faces that Bucky couldn’t even really begin to decipher in his current state. “Great. JARVIS, you want to inform Loki?”

“I have been required to ask whether you’re certain you want to contact Loki.”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, Sir has tried to contact Mr Lau-”

“Friggason.”

“Noted. Mr Friggason on many occasions whilst intoxicated and has asked for a failsafe that may stop him.”

“You asking him whether he’s sure is not going to stop him.”

“I only follow the orders I’m given.”

“Fair enough. Just tell Loki that he’s allowed to join us if he wants to.”

“Certainly, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky turned back to the group. “Just checking once more, you’re all sure?”

“Yeah,” MJ said, followed by Peter’s more timid, “think so.” Wanda just nodded, a chuffed smile on her face. It wasn’t a surprise. She’d just found her new mentor. Goodbye Bucky, really.

They all had their own mentors now. Tony and Peter. MJ and Steve. Loki and Wanda, if the pattern was to be followed. Then Bucky, the person that was the glue that held it all together. He wasn’t annoyed, nor left out, he was proud to see them all have their own strengths. He enjoyed hearing Peter rave about what he’d made in the lab with Tony. He couldn’t help but laugh when MJ and Steve gave completely different accounts of an art lesson which usually meant Steve had made a fool of himself and was trying to hide it. He looked forward to seeing Wanda become more confident in her powers, to realise that they didn’t have to instil fear: in others or herself. 

And it gave Bucky some time to forge his own path. Before his hangover had absolutely ruined his life, he’d been planning. Things were coming together, slowly but surely, and his life now had a much clearer path. Not that life ever kept to that path but there was something secure in trying to dictate its path, to have a feeling of control over the chaotic trajectory of your life. 

Bucky was pulled out of his reverie by the arrival of the Asgardian prince. In fact,  _ two _ Asgardian princes had arrived at the door. Both of them looked casual, though Thor looked more tired than he ever had before. Bucky wondered for a moment whether  _ Thor _ was hungover but it wasn’t sickness in his eyes but grief unimaginable to Bucky. Loki’s were clearer, though Bucky had noticed that he seemed to get lost in his own mind when he knew no one was paying attention. Except Bucky was always paying attention.

Except when he was drunk, of course, and then he just acted like a complete fool.

“Hey, Thor,” Bucky said, trying to act a little more composed than he was. He was sure it was obvious enough on his face but he could at least try to have some dignity. “What are you doing here?”

“I have come for two reasons. To thank you and to warn you. I am endlessly pleased to see someone have faith in my brother and lead him to a better path but I must too warn you that he plays many a trick-“

“Aw, you’re so kind, brother.”

“ _ And _ ,” Thor said over him (god, they were such brothers), “this may be a ploy. Many of his recent actions have not been what they seem so I ask you to proceed with caution, though I can not in good faith ask you to change your minds. I love my brother,”

“I see we’re feeling sentimental today,” Loki sneered, arms folded over his chest. 

Thor continued to speak over him. “And I wish to see him follow a better path. It will be better for him as it will be better for all of us.”

“Um, thanks, Thor. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Thank you. I must go back now.” He turned to Loki. “Mother wishes to see you soon. If you are allowed, you must visit us.”

“Of course, Thor,” Loki sighed, losing the facade, something like sorrow on his face. Not its entirety, but at least something that led there. 

“Goodbye, Team Barnes,” Thor said before disappearing back into the corridor, hammer in hand. 

“Team Barnes? Is that our new name?” MJ asked. “It’s pretty shit.”

“I prefer Team Spider,” Peter said.

“But we’re not  _ your _ team,” Wanda said, “unless you want to suggest Team Spider-Scarlet-Winter-Shield.” 

“Team…SSWS?” Peter tried.

“They’re all awful,” MJ intoned. 

“We don’t have a team name,” Bucky said, “and we’re not going to have one. That would mean we’re officially fighting and despite my judgement to train you, you’re still kids and I’m not letting you go into big battles yet.”

“Peter fights,” MJ argued.

“Because I can’t stop him. But we’re not doing team-ups.”

“Fair enough,” MJ shrugged. For her it was easy. Of all of them, she wasn’t a warrior. She was strong and she certainly had the moral backbone to do it but she didn’t really have a reason to. She didn’t have abilities that she felt she needed to give the world. She could do so much good but that didn’t have to be in a fight. She was smart,  _ really _ smart. One day she could cure cancer or write a best-selling book or become a leading mathematician. Didn’t need to fight to do that.

“For now, we’re better than the Avengers. We can leave it at that.”

“Can that be our name?” Peter asked. “You know, Team Better Than The Avengers.”

“That’s the worst one so far,” Wanda said.

“You also don’t want to be affiliated with the Avengers,” Loki said, finally joining in. “A team should be its own entity. If the Avengers come under scrutiny and you’re a branch of them, you’re suddenly under scrutiny too.” Loki stopped, taking in the myriad of expressions. “It’s just politics,” he shrugged. 

“Loki’s right. If we ever get an official name,  _ if _ , it’s better if we’re not affiliated with another team. Ugh,” Bucky groaned suddenly, “if I see one more headline about that picture calling us the ‘Young Avengers’, I’m going to go Winter Soldier mode.” Bucky huddled in his seat and waved Loki over. “Welcome to the team, I guess. For now, we do whatever we want and then we’ll do some proper training later. It’s all become a little less…regimented over the last few months.”

“Okay,” Loki said agreeably. 

“And as you may have noted, I am hungover as shit today so we’re not doing training. Normally we meet at 12. For today, just…I don’t know, what do you guys want to do?”

“Magic,” Wanda said immediately. 

“Something everyone can do,” Bucky interrupted, feeling a little too much like a parent, or a school teacher. But fuck it, he wasn’t in the mood. 

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to Peter for a moment. If that’s alright,” Loki said, head bowed, as if deferring to some higher force. At some point, Bucky would have to sort that out. This team worked on an equal playing field, not a hierarchy; Bucky had enough of that in the army. 

“Peter?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. That’s fine.”

“Great.”

“We’ll be on the other side of the room,” Bucky said, beckoning the others over, “I promise not to listen but I should warn you, I can hear you.” Loki nodded, moving to the far side of the room, his stance uncomfortably taut. Peter was practically vibrating with energy, eyes darting around him like he was taking in escape plans but finally, they settled on Loki, his neck craning a bit awkwardly to look up at the god. Alien. Whatever.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” Loki said.

“I’m not scared.”

“Them I’m sorry I’m making you anxious.”

“I’m not- fine. Just…can we sit down?”

“Of course.” In some effort to prove his obedience, Loki sat down immediately, his legs crossed at the knee, a single hand perched on his knee. Peter followed suit, taking the seat opposite, looking somewhat relaxed with the barrier now between them.

“Why did you want to speak to me?”

“I’m trying to make amends. You feel like a good place to start.”

“I’m not the person you need to make amends with. You’ve never hurt me directly.”

“Exactly. Small steps.”

“Sounds like you’re avoiding the real work.”

“How so?”

“You’re not used to this, are you?”

“No, I’m not. It is not a part of Asgardian culture to apologise, especially among royals.”

“I could tell. You’re pretty awful at this.”

“What am I supposed to be like?”

“Well, apologetic, for one? But, I mean, this isn’t an  _ acting class _ . Like, we don’t lie in this team. It’s a thing. Honesty and all. We’re supposed to help you but not through...like, you being insincere.”

“What is it you humans say? Fake it ’til you make it?”

“Oh god. The fact that you know that saying is downright terrifying. And also, no. Like yeah, just, no. That’s...that’s gonna work on the surface for a bit but, I don’t know, it has to come crashing down eventually, right? To become good…you have to  _ want _ it. You have to mean it. You can’t just…well, maybe you can. It depends on what you want to be. Do you want to be good or do you want not to be bad?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Peter had his stubborn face on, the one that still looked like a puppy (never fixed, it seemed, by his growing years). 

“I want to not be bad first. To be good? That depends.”

“On what? You should either want it or not.”

“Nothing in life is ever that simple. Does being good bring me the things I want or does simply not being bad do it?”

“And what do you want?”

Loki paused, eyeing Peter carefully. “Are we really going to jump straight to this?”

“Yes. We said we were going to help you so here it is, me helping you.”

“You humans do work ever so fast. But fine. What do I want?” Loki pretended to think but it was clear that the list was already written in his head; if it were a real list, it would no doubt be worn, crumpled at the edges from use. “I want to not be hated. I want to be important. I want to have something I can call my own, something that wasn’t borrowed or taken or someone else’s. I want my fathers to pay, both of them. I want to feel love and friendship. And I want to find out who I really am.”

“That’s a long list.”

“I’ve had a long life. Most of which has been more awful than you can imagine.”

Peter didn’t respond straight away; instead, he heaved in a breath, seemingly trying to settle himself. His fingers were darting over the table, his whole body vibrating with unreleased energy. “Look, I’m just going to be honest here. Aren’t you, like, being kinda melodramatic. Or spoiled. I’m sure you’ve gone through some really hard things. Really hard. I saw how Wanda reacted to you. But  _ most _ ? You’re a  _ prince _ . And I may not have talked to Thor much but the way he talks about his childhood, you by his side, I can’t imagine that it was  _ that _ awful.”

Loki grit his teeth. “I lived in his shadow. Just because I was wealthy-“

“You don’t know what it’s like to run out of money, or to really lose your parents, or to be thrown into a new world you don’t understand.” This had gotten personal, fast, but Bucky couldn’t save them now, the only way out was through. It was for the best. Probably…

“No, I don’t, but that does not mean I have not suffered other ills. Do you know what it’s like to be tortured? Or to realise your entire world isn’t real. You live two lives, Peter. I now have none. Everything I was, was taken away from me. More than once. And my childhood? The one I spent next to Thor? My father made it a competition for the throne, one I always lost. Do you know what it feels like to lose for centuries? To  _ never _ be good enough. To be bullied for your differences-“

“Of course I do!” Peter shouted, silencing the room in a heartbeat. Loki stared at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t have to compete but I was bullied. I wasn’t good at sports. I- I was a nerd, through and through. Awkward. Still am. And they pick on people like that. At least they did with me. Couldn’t move schools, though, I was at the best one in the area. I was as stuck as you were. It may not have been centuries, but it felt like it. You’re not the only one, Loki, okay? And if you thought you were, then you’ve clearly been hanging around the wrong people.”

“It seems so.” Loki was looking carefully now, examining more than searching. “Is that not why I’m here?”

“I guess it is. But just…bullying’s shit, I get that. But the best thing to do isn’t to try and get revenge or beat them but just…be better than them. Take the moral high ground and do something better than them. And I’m sure you can. You’re Asgardian royalty and a- an  _ insanely _ powerful magic dude.”

“I’ve always been better than them.”

Peter frowned. “Well, guess that’s a start. Now you just have to prove it.”

“I plan to do so.”

“Haven’t heard something as good as that since Steve gave the Howling Commandos a pep talk back in ’44,” Bucky said, not bothering to smother his smile. “Told you change didn’t need to happen with your fists.”

“You never outright said that.”

Bucky glared teasingly. “I implied it. You both good?”

“I’m fine,” Loki said, “I’ve learnt some things.”

“Good to hear. Pete?”

“I’m good. Just riled myself up.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Now, you guys want to do something fun whilst I try and ignore my raging headache?”

~*~

“Thanos? Who is he?” Steve asked, staring at the holographic board at the front of the room.

“Purple alien psychopath,” Tony relayed, “looking for these things called infinity stones. Total nut.”

“And powerful,” Loki said. “He could tear apart this world with ease. The only thing stopping him is his moral compass.”

“This guy has a moral compass?” Bruce asked.

“It’s twisted,” Thor interrupted. “He truly believes he’s doing the right thing.”

“And that makes him dangerous,” Steve added. 

“Extremely. He wants to destroy half the universe.”

“But we won’t let him, will we?” Tony asked. 

“Of course not,” Barton said, rolling his eyes, “we’re the  _ Avengers _ .”

Loki smirked. For so long, he’d envied his brother. For this. And now, he was almost a part of his own team. One that was  _ better than the Avengers. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you for all the previous support, it means the world! Feel free to leave a comment below (about anything and everything, and I do accept criticism!)


	9. Loki V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was never meant to happen (originally, there was only going to be a Loki IV) but I’ve reached a point of frustration with this story so what better way to vent it than *within* the story itself. This sequel has been a surprisingly difficult process with a lot more ups and downs, which I believe have probably been a lot more noticeable, given the tone of this story compared to the first. However, I’m really hoping to get as far as I can with this story so I’m persevering. I think writing this chapter has done me some good in terms of that. I’m sorry for the…gravitas. What was originally meant to be Loki IV is now Loki IV, V & VI. Oops? 
> 
> Still, I actually really love this chapter so I hope you enjoy it too.

They still met twice a week, though it suddenly felt like a lot more with a new addition to the team. Probably because they kept running into each other. Steve was in the Tower due to increased demand with the new threat posed (though their progress was slight), and Bucky usually came along. Which meant Bucky kept running into Loki in the halls; it had been the cause of more than one midnight chat. Bucky hadn’t gotten particularly far with Loki but he’d opened up himself, hoping that one day Loki would do the same in return. He’d started, though so far Loki hadn’t touched on his own trauma, only the lighter issues of his past. 

But it wasn’t just Loki. Bucky would see Peter hurrying through the corridors, a thousand items on his hands as he yelled out “I need to get these to Stark quick!” in explanation. Bucky didn’t mind but it did make him feel like he and Peter were two planets orbiting each other, never to cross. It felt like a long time since Bucky had really had any time with Peter; not talking about something serious but just having fun together. Their team wasn’t supposed to add weight to them, it was supposed to be a place outside of your problems, a place for camaraderie and friendship, which Bucky had been lacking in giving as of late.

He’d work on it.

Then there was Wanda too, who was coming in to confer about the stone in Vision’s head, the one she was connected to. It meant she was hanging around with Vision a lot more but Bucky tended to get words in with her when he could. 

With January bringing in a whole new wave of cold, MJ had taken to coming over on Friday’s to do her sessions with Steve rather than sitting outside or at the Tower. Bucky was fine with it but it did feel…uncomfortable to have someone else in his (their) space. But it was nice to catch up with MJ. He rarely got to and despite her progress, she could be closed off in ways he didn’t expect. It felt a little like he was whittling her down but he hoped that was just what she needed. He was sure she’d tell him if he went too far. 

It just felt…

Bucky felt like the group had lost it’s  _ fun _ . Not even since Loki joined. Just…since after he got pardoned. It wasn’t like they were miserable by any means but he missed the days when it only took a snide joke to send Peter into a spluttering mess or the few times he’d really managed to make Wanda crack up (or that time he’d made Wanda spray water all over the table when he’d decided to try and do a John Mulaney impression because that’s what the kids liked, wasn’t it?) It wasn’t.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made MJ truly  _ laugh _ , like relentless, uncontrollable laughter. 

It wasn’t bad, per se, it just felt…saddening, as most change did. Bucky, for all the change he’d gone through, wasn’t a big fan of it. Nostalgia was a curse he’d been burdened with for a long time, and was something that he’d - for the most part - tried to ignore. But sometimes it conquered him, slashed him down until he could barely believe the downfall of his life. 

Bucky had four sections to his life: Brooklyn, The War, Hydra, The Future. Although they couldn’t be completely bad or good, they could be ranked from best to worst in a neat little order. Hydra, of course, came at the bottom of that list. The War above that. Then The Future, then Brooklyn.

Except that had changed, and the future that had once seemed so confining now made him happy beyond words. The stresses of his early life were gone, the fear that had come alongside it evaporated. He was free, in as much as anyone ever could be. 

But February had come around and it felt like Bucky had hit a brick wall. And with that came even more issues. Guilt, that he couldn’t just enjoy his life, as brilliant as it was. Fear, that it was only going to get worse. Anxiety, that he couldn’t fix it. 

Steve couldn’t do much but he could see it was getting worse. His therapist called it a relapse when he’d confronted it. Bucky had argued that that was impossible. It wasn’t even about Hydra so it couldn’t really be caused a relapse, not in terms of the progress he’d made to escape Hydra’s clutches. His therapist had kindly replied, “Hydra isn’t going to be your only problem, James. What they did to you, it left certain things in your personality, in your mind, it’s up to you to try and fight through that and come out the other side but that’s not going to be easy, nor linear.” She had continued on but Bucky had already stopped listening.

A relapse. He felt like a drug addict.

A drug addict who struggled to get out of bed again in the morning. Luckily, he wasn’t actually an addict. It was a close call, though, and he knew it. For the first time in a long time, he thanked God for the Serum because, without it, he would already be neck-deep in booze.

He’d tried on a lonely Tuesday night in mid-January. Without the Asgardian boost, it was entirely useless, but it hadn’t stopped him from glugging the whole bottle. Steve had come home that night, tired and fragile, only to find Bucky tucked up in bed, the stench of whiskey so thick he almost couldn’t breathe, looking more passed out than asleep.

It hadn’t happened again.

But it wasn’t enough to stop the downward spiral. Instead, it seemed to exacerbate it. Without the crutch he longed for, he could barely hold it together anymore. He still showed up to sessions but almost everyone could tell something was off. Bucky had overheard MJ talking about stress with the whole Thanos thing but why they thought he was even involved in Avengers business was beyond him. Wanda had voiced a fear that possible latent Hydra programming had come back which had sent him into a paranoid episode lasting a few days until Steve had finally talked him down (with the help of his therapist, of course).

Peter didn’t voice anything.

It was Loki who finally came up to him. 

It was Friday and Bucky had fled the apartment to avoid MJ’s intent gaze. Outside was a whole other can of worms so he’d gone to the Tower, hoping to sequester himself in Steve’s apartment when he’d found Loki lingering in the corridor.

“JARVIS told me you were up here. I was hoping we could talk.”

“Um…”

“I promise to leave you alone shortly. I merely wish to have a short conversation.” 

Reluctantly, Bucky nodded. “JARVIS, give Loki temporary access to Steve’s room.”

“I have to ask if you’re sure-“

“There’s nothing he could do in there and nothing he could take,  _ Stark _ has nothing to worry about.”

“Very well, allowing access to Mr Friggason now until he leaves the room.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.”

They walked in together, a heavy silence lingering between them. Bucky ignored it, as he did a lot of things nowadays, and walked to the wall-sized windows on the far side of the room. It was dark outside, though it wasn’t a surprise this time of year. It was still disconcerting, though, when the darkness took over before the clock could catch up.

He looked up for a moment, hoping to find stars. There were only two, which was almost impressive for New York. The clouds should have blocked them but within the grey mass, a gap had appeared, and two dull stars had peeked through, a small brightness in the otherwise gloominess of February. 

It didn’t make Bucky feel better but the symbolism made him feel  _ something _ , though he wasn’t sure if it was good.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Bucky asked, not turning around. There was something terrifying about the act of looking a man in the eye, something that Bucky just couldn’t cope with right now. Maybe it was the remnants of Hydra’s programming, maybe it was just his nature, but either way, Bucky had no will to look at Loki right now. Instead, his eyes focused on the stars, both as unwavering as the other. There was something so much more solid about the sky. It moved in a way that was expected. The sun rose and set; the stars shone and then they were masked. It was repetitive, easy, familiar. 

Nothing else felt familiar anymore. 

“You haven’t been well,” Loki noted.

“You said it would be a short conversation,” Bucky diverted.

“And I’m a liar, I will admit to that. You let me join this team to help me but you also said that we are a team together. If you are to help me, I think I should be helping you too.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe that’s the first step to changing.”

Bucky smiled mutely. Still selfish, he thought, but didn’t voice it aloud. Loki would get it eventually. He’d learnt that life wasn’t a transaction, or else why would it be so unfair? Nothing was equal. Nothing was owed; things were only taken.

Or maybe Bucky was just feeling macabre. 

That seemed to be happening a lot lately. 

“I also wanted to make sure that I was not the cause of this.”

“The cause? Of course not.” Bucky finally turned around, the frown etched into his face, carving deeper lines than usual. For a moment, he wondered if age was finally catching up to him, matching his age to the spots and folds of his skin. He suspected not. His ageing process was…complicated at best. Completely uncertain at worst. 

“I’m glad. I would not want to be the cause of undue stress.”

“You’re not,” Bucky assured, “in fact, the team has accepted you more easily than I suspected.” Taking in slow breaths, Bucky walked into the living area and fell down onto the sofa with a quiet huff. Loki didn’t follow suit but he came closer, hands hovering anxiously over the armrest. 

“I am grateful to them.”

“Good. They’re doing a lot for you.”

“I’m very aware. But now you are only diverting from your own issues.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Bucky said it more viciously than he’d like but it was too late to take it back now, he’d just have to roll with the consequences. Except Loki didn’t seem mad, nor offended. In fact, if Bucky had to look closely, he’d almost say Loki looked a little bit proud.

Guess that’s what happened when you shaped your life around being ‘silver-tongued’.

“No, I’d like to think not.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Bucky finally said, his eyes back on the windows again. Trying to look like his anxiety wasn’t sending him flittering around the room, he stood up again and went back to the windows. It was more comfortable there, with the whole world stretched out in front of him. Carefully, he sat down, crossing his legs and leaning his head in his hand. It would ache to hold this position for too long but for now, it gave him the best view.

Loki followed him closer this time, taking a seat next to him. “Nice view, isn’t it,” he said, tactfully not pushing further. Yet.

“I’ve always liked the view at night. Reminds me of home, for some reason. Spent a lot of time on the fire escape, I guess. Used to come back from my shift pretty late and I’d have a smoke outside. Steve didn’t breath right if I smoked in the apartment,” Bucky explained but his eyes seemed lost somewhere distant, “so I watched the stars, even if it was fucking freezing. It was one of the few things Steve liked to nanny me over. I think he just liked switching the situation up for a bit, give him the chance to be as bossy as I was with him.”

“Were you together back then?”

“No, that all came pretty late. Like, really late. Like a week before I died late,” Bucky revealed. “It was a mess,” he said instead of explaining. “It’s easier not to go into.”

“I don’t mind listening.”

Bucky smiled, though it seemed more sardonic than pleased. “I know.”

“I understand. The pain. I know I can be…private. It’s how I’ve always lived my life. And I can see already that your teamwork is based on a different understanding. One of trust and communication and all those other things Midgard seems to favour so much.”

“Only so much nowadays. And only in certain countries. Repression was a key factor in my childhood.”

“Repression was a key factor of my  _ life _ .”

“Point taken.” 

“I’ve gone off track. I just mean, I know that I may not be as skilled as you humans are but I can empathise, no matter how they frame me. I am not a psychopath.”

“I never said you were.”

“But many people have.” 

“How come?”

Loki stared at him for a moment, debating whether to push further or allow for the diversion. It was soon obvious that opening up was the only way he was going to get anything in return. 

“They see me as a monster. I am not Asgardian, despite my looks. I am of a race Asgardians have been taught to hate. Frost Giants are a large part of Asgardian children’s nightmares. They are what are used to scare people. They’re evil, as simple as. Therefore, so am I. But,” Loki admitted, “it is not just that. I would say it's an accumulation of many factors. I am a sorcerer, despite it being a female-led science in Asgard, and as such, I am framed as an outsider, unable to follow my brothers into war. My nature as a trickster has rightfully made people wary of my words but now, they are not just simply wary. They do not believe I am playing tricks anymore, they believe I am out to destroy them, even if it would not benefit me in the slightest.”

“Sounds like a boy who cried wolf situation.”

“I did find that story very interesting.”

“You’ve read it?”

“I learnt a lot of Midgardian culture when I came here. It is now my home, for better or for worse, I no longer wish to be an outsider.” 

“So that’s it, really. You’ve always been an outsider.”

“For almost all my life, yes. There’s never been a place where I have seemed to fit. For a long time, I believed that was just the way thing we're meant to be, that it meant I had to be at the top of the chain. A king made his own place; he would not be positioned by others. But now I see my foolishness. A king is as much ruled by others as he is ruled by himself.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Politics always is. For now, I am seeing if I can find my place here. Though I am not sure. I have lost much, everything, in the last few years. And whilst I may not be devastated by the loss of Asgard, I am devastated by the loss of life that my sister wreaked first. They can call me a psychopath but a king does his duty to his people and to lose so many, as their Prince, I must mourn for all of them.”

“It must have been a pretty big change, coming here.” 

“It was. It is. But I’m not finding it all bad. After all, I’ve been waiting for a chance to start over my entire life.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Maybe not for the right reasons. Maybe not for the right reasons now. But my life has been a series of my own failures. I only wish to remove them, to start from a blank slate. With Asgard gone, I can almost do so. Of course, my people still think the same of me but I hope to prove them wrong. I want to come back a changed man.”

“So you plan on going back?” Bucky asked, something strange biting in his chest. He hadn’t expected Loki to leave. Of course, it was the logical course of action, he was still an Asgardian royal, but he had never thought of it before and he was surprised by just how much it seemed to pain him to think about. It seemed, once Bucky had dedicated himself to someone, that he didn’t want to let them go. 

“I have to. It is my duty as a prince. My mother will not reign for long, she will give the throne to Thor soon but he will need an advisor. He is a warrior, not a king. I hope to stand by his side, if he’ll have me there.”

“You think he will?”

“Honestly, at this point, I am not sure.” 

A short silence descended on them, the peaceful quiet allowing them to sift slowly through their thoughts, until eventually, Bucky said, “do you like nostalgia?”

“I’m not sure. There is not much I am nostalgic about.”

“I don’t. I think it’s shit.” Loki blinked, seemingly taken aback by the sheer bluntness of his statement. He’d have to get used to it. Although Loki’s whole life seemed to be composed of talking circles around people, Bucky was more of a…rampage through a conversation and hope to come out the other end kind of guy. Not unlike Thor, really, except a lot ( _ lot _ ) less charming. So maybe Loki shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Bucky continued. “It’s fun, really fun. And good, god it’s good. It sounds stupid when I say it aloud,” he said with a huff of breath that sounded a little like a laugh, “it’s just…it feels like a curse, you know. To look back and think, god, wasn’t that great? Didn’t you love that? And then to remember that you  _ don’t _ have that anymore. That what you have might be worse.”

“Is it worse? What you have now?”

“No, I don’t think it is. I think it’s all in my head. I  _ know _ it’s all in my head. But that doesn’t stop me thinking it, does it? It’s just there, like some fucking parasite. And my head has a fuck tonne of them.” 

“That I can understand.” Loki stopped, his eyes taking in the horizon, seemingly unfazed by its beauty. “I do not think nostalgia is a bad thing. Of course, you’re right. It can make your current situation seem a lot worse. But there has to be a balance in all things. When your life gets better, you remember the worse and are grateful for where you are. It’s only fair if it's the other way around. I guess, in your case, it isn’t so fair. History isn’t black and white and memories are fraught with contradictions-“

“How much do you remember?”

“Of what? My life?”

“You’ve lived a thousand years. Is it possible to remember it all?”

Loki coughed out an almost humourless laugh. “Not at all. I remember little. My memories are specific and deluded by time. Humans treat memories differently here. In Asgard, they are fallible, memory is not trusted. It is why we are warriors. A fight is all in the present.”

“I’m sorry, I cut you off before.”

“Nothing to worry about, I was going off track. I only meant to say that nostalgia exists to contradict its opposite. Life is always a balance.”

“Philosophical.”

“Mere reason.”

“Sure, Aristotle,” Bucky said, smirking. He was surprised to realise that his anxiety almost wasn’t there; he was tense, sure, but he could no longer feel the pounding of his heart nor the dangerous rushes of adrenaline that sent his heart burning in unexpected waves. “Thanks for coming to talk.”

“It is not a problem. I am glad to be of service. But are you still troubled?”

“Probably but…god, I’m just stuck in old patterns. I think too much. Have too much  _ time _ to think.”

“What do you have, outside the team?”

“Nothing, really. I did, for a bit. I had plans. And then my pardoning came in and then I was free and it all just fell away. I just stopped when it was finally time to start going. Got distracted by the small things.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Get my high school diploma, or something equivalent anyway. Think I want to do some mathematical at college. And I have this…plan. But I won’t tell you about it yet. Not even Steve knows. But I have a big plan for something, something that I’d need a lot of help with.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Bucky huffed another broken laugh. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve just moved to London for University so don’t know how regular my schedule will be now! Really have no idea how busy this time will be :)


	10. Loki VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains the first MJ POV I’m pretty sure! What a feat.

Bucky had been looking forward to this. With his mood temporarily lifted, he felt like he could finally go back into the sessions with some energy. He wasn’t surprised when his smile was met with smiles in return, nor was he surprised when his humour seemed to be infectious. He hadn’t realised before just how much his own mood could bring down the team. A few well-timed jokes and some proper activities planned and it was like the room was buzzing again.

By the time they’d gotten down to the gym, they were just about running up the walls. “Okay, okay,” Bucky said, gathering their attention. “Training first, I know you guys want to start actually  _ beating _ Loki-“

“We did! Once…” Peter argued.

“Because he let you. So we’re going to try harder. Loki, can you keep going with Wanda’s training?” 

“Of course.”

“Great. And make it something offensive. I want something she can use to fight. She’s got her defence pretty much down. And Peter, MJ, you’re with me, I’m going to teach you something you’re gonna love.”

Smiling, Bucky led them over to the other side of the gym. “Okay, keep your voices down, I don’t want Loki overhearing. We’re gonna surprise him, okay?”

Both MJ and Peter looked giddy at the prospect, matching grins stretching their mouths wide. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, I’m gonna need those orbs and the cloak. How much training has Loki given you with it?”

“Um…a bit. Enough for me to use it in a non-serious fight.”

“Great. Now you’re gonna have to teach MJ to use it.”

“What? Why?”

“I have a plan.”

~*~

On the other side of the room, Loki was blissfully ignorant of the conspiracy happening on Bucky’s side. Instead, he had his hands placed on his hips, staring down at Wanda. 

“You look like a mum,” she deadpanned.

“I  _ do not _ look like a mum.”

“Those hands on your hips say otherwise.”

“That is a  _ casual pose _ .”

Almost immediately, Wanda started to laugh, unable to keep it back. “Oh god, you’re so easy to rile up. Relax, I’m joking.”

Just to be stubborn, even as a dangerous blush crept up his cheeks, Loki kept his hands on his hips. "Then stop joking, I have a lesson to teach.”

“Sheesh,” Wanda said, though she was still smiling. 

“Okay, orb,” he instructed, a well-worn demand by now. Loki and Wanda had been meeting now on Thursdays so they got an extra session outside of the usual Saturday training sessions. It had still only been a few sessions but enough for them to create some quick names for some otherwise complicated processes. Immediately, Wanda let a ball of red energy linger between her hands, her fingers fiddling delicately over the edge. It was entirely unnecessary but it certainly looked a lot cooler and made it easier to move fluidly with the liquid-like magic rather than stretch it out.

“Today, you’re going to need to learn how to shoot that.  _ Properly _ ,” he added when she shot it at the wall. “I suspect that the biggest issue will be accuracy although there is also an issue with power when under quick attack. It can take time to recharge big attacks, you will need to learn to do so quicker as our training progresses.”

“So basically, the attacks will be useless today?”

“Yes but that will help. You only need to tag your teammates not blow them to smithereens. So today is focused on accuracy.”

“Boring.”

“You’re different today.”

“How?”

“You’re…snarky,” Loki sighed good-naturedly.

“Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

“I’m sure you are.” There was a secret smile on Loki’s lips, for only a reason he was privy to, that Wanda wasn’t about to decode. “But that’s no reason to not listen.”

“I’m listening,” Wanda assured. Loki hummed non-committedly. “Make the orb smaller, build its energy into a concentrated sphere and then push it in the way you want. Like a bullet.” There was nothing in her mind that could switch its path once it was shot, though that would change in time, Loki informed.

He stood behind her, green eyes narrowed and focused, guiding her through the motion again and again and again, trying to push her out of old, bad habits as plumes of red magic hit the reinforced wall with a dull buzz. 

It was monotonous, as most early training was, which was why Loki diverted her attention once she’d thrown another shot at the same spot. “Time to hit a target.”

“What target?”

Loki smiled his signature grin. “Me.” 

Without warning, he disappeared, appearing only metres away, throwing her a facetious wave before moving again. This time, she was more prepared. She built up the energy quickly with a determined smirk and shot him. But he was already gone. He appeared closer this time, green eyes blazing; Loki was in his element. Trickery, mockery and chaos all in one nice, small package. This was what the God of Mischief should have been. Not a man who wreaked disaster but simply continually, repetitively annoyed people out of his own volition. Like Stark.

It took at least five minutes before she even clipped him, managing to get him just as he was disappearing, the fizzle of magic still apparent when Loki reappeared elsewhere. “Nicely done. You’re getting better.”

“Not good enough.” But Wanda was clever. She used Loki’s brief respite to send another shockwave of red, this time hitting him in the chest and whilst he didn’t flinch, he looked surprised. 

“Very nicely done.”

“I have a good teacher.”

“That you do,” Loki said because, well, arrogance was a trait that didn’t just disappear, that much they’d learnt already. Although it had become increasingly clear that most of his arrogance was put on, the true arrogance came from elsewhere. Loki genuinely believed he was better than the rest of them. Shamefully, it was because he  _ was _ . Not at everything, of course, but he did have a lot of years on them. Almost automatically, he was far above what they could comprehend. Didn’t make it any easier to humble him, though.

“Okay!” Bucky called, voice resonating easily throughout the gym, “suit up with whatever you want, it’s fight time!”

The group congregated near the changing rooms, all looking a little too ready. No doubt, everyone had their own plans. It had gotten to the point now where all three teenagers had found one or both of the others planning strategies at school. Loki, no doubt, did the same, although he did for just about everything in his life. Bucky may not have been so prepared but he had a lot of training on his side. 

“All in today, okay? Usual rules apply.” They all nodded. “I’m setting a minute up on the clock to get into position, game starts when JARVIS says. Three, two, one,  _ go _ .”

They all rushed to separate corners of the gym. There was little to use without one of Stark’s setups but they made do. MJ made for the treadmills, sliding in behind them and propping up her shield to protect her from attacks. It meant she could only be attacked from one angle; easily defensible even for the least trained student. Peter, as usual, headed up, though this time, Wanda followed suit. Peter took one corner whilst Wanda took the other and even though they were probably too far away from each other to truly see the other they were both smirking their best taunts. Loki made his way over to the centre of the room, taking the spotlight in the middle of the sparring mats. Bucky, for no discernible reason, followed him.

“You may begin,” JARVIS’ voice rang out, a small bell clanging afterwards.

“You’re confident,” Bucky commented, eyeing Loki up and down.

“Should I not be?”

“I’m not sure. Should you be?” Immediately, Bucky lunged, his heart beating frantically in his chest as the adrenaline spurred on something  _ alive _ inside him. How long had it been since he truly joined the action? Just  _ sparred _ . Especially with someone as powerful as Loki. He didn’t hold back, jamming a knee in Loki’s stomach before using his momentum to send a punch directly at Loki’s face. It was futile, but he knew that before the attacks; Loki didn’t flinch at the contact and caught Bucky’s hand and although the rules here weren’t clear, Bucky said: “we’re both down a life, I’d guess.”

“That’s fine with me.”

They continued. Bucky threw another throw but Loki was already weaving his way around him, tagging him in the back like he was just drifting past. The smirk on his face was cocky enough that Bucky  _ really _ wanted to catch him off guard but he had a plan and he wasn’t about to let his team down. 

For now, it was Bucky: 1. Loki: 2. And from what he could see elsewhere, everyone else 3. 

Bucky threw himself forward again, ducking under Loki’s quick set of double jabs whilst attempting an uppercut, almost catching his chin. Instead, he was thrown backwards, his momentum unstoppable unless he planted his foot far behind him making him vulnerable to-

Loki swept his front leg out from in front of him and tagged him in the shoulder. “Out,” he said cheerfully, though a frown soon creased his face when Bucky continued to smile. “Nice sparring,” he said before striding off the court, taking a seat on one of the benches, looking like the victor. Loki wouldn’t stand for it. 

He quickly scoped out MJ, noting that Wanda and Peter had finally engaged above him, though both were easily holding their own. Peter was finally learning how to avoid Wanda’s attacks, though he was still struggling with landing anything on her. Apparently, that was where MJ came in. As soon as Loki was close, she rushed out from behind the treadmills, arms reached upwards. Quickly, dodging a well-formed attack from Wanda, Peter dropped from the rafters with a carefully crafted web that would survive being broken in multiple points (a lesson he’d learnt early on with Wanda) and picked MJ up, bringing her up to the rafters. 

It left Wanda surrounded. 

Loki, in his usual fashion, didn’t bother to join them. It was easier to put up a defence and wait for the rest of them to fight it out amongst themselves. (No point cutting the game short, was there?)

Wanda didn’t last long. They wore her down until she was breaking a strong sweat and her defence started to flicker and within seconds, both MJ and Peter had tagged her, breaking off for only seconds before rounding on her again. Wanda was out.

Which left Peter and MJ on three lives whilst Loki was left with two. Still an uneven standpoint, probably leaning in Loki’s favour. Except Bucky’s plan had gone right so far so what was stopping the rest of it? 

Peter dropped MJ back to the floor before swinging upwards again. Loki looked up, debating who to go for first before going towards the easier target. It wasn’t difficult, MJ was already running at him, shield on her arm. It took him all of a minute to disarm her and get all three strikes in.

Except…she smiled when coming off the pitch too.

Loki knew they were playing him, he just didn’t know how. So he went for Peter with ferocity. Peter had jumped down from the rafter so Loki brought them back up, not standing for following Peter’s plan but it didn't matter, Peter had already brought out an orb. Loki was surprised, this had failed once before, why would they think-

When he reached for it, he found it blockaded by a clear signature, a particularly  _ red _ one. “Well, she is a good student.”

Peter let the orb fly, opening as it went, sending the room into a flood of black except for dangerous pockets of light that threatened to blind Loki. It wouldn’t stop him, though. He pounced on Peter, getting in a hit on the knee, putting them on an equal standpoint. Peter fought well, his speed working in his favour as he dodged his hits. Much to Loki’s surprise, it truly took an effort to beat Peter. He put more focus in, wondering what spells he could bring to use but each moment of thought left time for Peter to pounce and the few plans that came to mind would be futile in this environment. The rafters might have been a bad move after all. 

That was the exact moment he felt a tap on his shoulder. He refused to turn around, knowing it would leave him open but Peter was smart enough to notice his distraction, throwing himself forward - with absolutely no concern for his own score - and tagging Loki on the shoulder then the opposite elbow.

“Out!” Peter shouted. “I win!” The boy was ecstatic, jumping for joy as he attached his webs to drop, approaching Loki’s silent assailant. “You’re gonna need to take the cloak off now.”

Slowly - even dramatically, Loki would say, except that would only enrage him - MJ pulled off the clock, laying it over the rafter so she was finally visible. “You going to take me down now? I don’t like heights.”

“You know I’d catch you!” Wanda shouted from below. 

“Somehow,” MJ muttered, “that doesn’t make me feel any safer.” 

As they both dropped to the ground, Loki followed, his eyes narrowed at the group. “I’m pretty sure that’s cheating. MJ was out.”

“Yes, she was,” Bucky agreed.

“Yet she tagged me afterwards.”

“She didn’t tag you. She tapped you on the shoulder, to which Peter then tagged you. Twice.” 

“Nowhere in the rules was it said that out players are allowed back on the pitch.”

“Never said they weren’t, though,” Bucky smirked. “And anyway, I think I taught an important lesson. Well, two, in fact.”

“And what were those?”

“One, you’re not undefeatable. Two, in the real world, cheating gets you  _ everywhere. _ If fighting dirty is the way to win, you better know you’ve got to do it.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Despite my…annoyance at your tactics, I do believe you are correct. Next time, though, I will play ‘dirty’ in return.”

“Then we’ll step up our game.” Bucky turned slightly, facing Peter, who was still bouncing on the balls of his feet like a sugared-up toddler. “Well done, Pete, you did well. All of you did well.”

“You should have told me the plan earlier,” Wanda groused.

“You weren’t originally a part of it. Lesson three, adaptability is everything. When Loki went up to the rafters, we needed a way to get MJ up there and you were the perfect candidate.”

“Next time,” Wanda ordered, “you’re gonna involve me in the planning.”

Bucky smirked, arms folded over his chest. “We’ll see.”

“You all did well,” Loki complimented, as was warranted on Asgard, but didn’t go further; the anger on his face was clear, despite the undercurrent of pride. Clearly, despite outward appearances, the team was growing on Loki as much as they had Bucky at the beginning. 

“Still, we need to go over how to improve as usual. Come on, we can sit down for a bit. I’m knackered.” He wasn’t. If anything, Bucky could go for another fight but he’d save that for another day. For now, he had to do his job.

~*~

After the session, Bucky left without changing to go meet Steve upstairs, where they would start moving the rest of Alpine’s things to their apartment. That left only Loki and Peter in the men’s changing rooms, a tense silence permeating the room which neither was willing to break first.

Peter kept side-eyeing Loki as he rummaged through his gym bag to find something to change into, though it seemed to go on forever as he paid more attention to the Norse god than his bag. Loki didn’t seem to be doing anything, standing near the doorway like he was both ready to run and finally approach the situation. 

The changing rooms left no opportunity to hide unless Peter escaped to the stalls. It was a long, white corridor with stalls running down one side, followed by sinks. The other side had benches followed by lockers, leaving only a thin aisle in between to walk through. It was far longer than it was wide and gave a direct view from one end to the other.

A tense minute passed.

Finally, Loki gave in. “That was very impressive.”

“Well,” Peter shrugged, tampering down a blush (with little success), “I had help.”

“You don’t need to downplay it. You were still vital to your team’s success and you were the only one who ended up the victor.”

“Um, that’s…thanks. I guess.”

“You’re not very good with praise, are you?” Loki said. In the name of honesty and all that. That  _ was _ what he was supposed to do, wasn’t it?

“It’s just.” Peter stopped himself and started again. “Only when it’s deserved.”

“As it is here.”

“That’s debatable,” Peter argued, turning back to his bag and using it as a distraction, quickly coming out with a pair of unfitting jeans and a t-shirt. 

“Are those your jeans?”

Peter frowned. “Um…yes?” What kind of question was that?

“They are very much the wrong size.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not much into fashion.” Or rich enough to give a shit but there was plenty more effort he could have put in if he was willing to thrift shop properly. Honestly, it just wasn’t his thing.

Loki didn’t seem to like that answer. It was painfully obvious why. Even in his gym clothes, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a high-end fashion magazine. The workout top somehow made his thin frame look muscular whilst the leggings were so tight that you couldn’t help but…look. Peter wouldn’t have pulled it off in a thousand years nor would he want to. The only way he could even get away with the Spiderman outfit was because he had a mask on and even then, the first time he’d tried on that suit was…

Well, there was a lot of awkward pulling.

“Maybe I could…help?” Loki suggested awkwardly.

Peter frowned further. “Is this, like, some kind of…redemption thing?”

“Just trying to help.”

Peter bit back a laugh. “That’s really not where you should be starting.”

Loki shrugged. “I’m good at fashion. I could help.”

Peter really couldn’t hold back the giggles now, something pig-like escaping his lips, followed by an ungracious snort as he tried to cover it up. He slapped a hand over his mouth which only served to make him laugh further and eventually, even Loki’s lips were twitching upwards, though he still argued, “I don’t see why this is funny.”

“It just is! You’re trying to redeem yourself from like, killing a planet and you want to start with  _ my _ wardrobe. What even is my life?” He muttered to himself.

“It’s good to start small.”

“Now you sound like my Aunt.”

“Then your Aunt is very wise.”

Peter snorted but didn’t argue; Aunt May was an undoubtedly smart woman, with people, anyway, maybe not so much at nuclear physics. “You really want to start with clothes?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“We are  _ not _ going shopping.”

“Then I will buy you some things. I can approximate your sizing. Unless you’d be willing to go to the tailor?”

“ _ No tailor _ ,” Peter said emphatically, this was stupid enough as it was. “And only a few things.”

“Of course.” Except Loki knew exactly what he was doing because ‘a few’ in a prince’s book meant a lot more than a few. So maybe twisting his words could help both parties for once.

Peter was smiling now as he desperately sprayed deodorant on so he wouldn’t stink up the whole train cart on his way home (he’d only shower once he got home because, well, he was self-conscious enough as it was without showering next to genetically enhanced super-soldiers and literal gods) and switched t-shirts, laughing at Loki’s dramatic groan.

“That is truly awful.”

“It’s funny.”

“Nothing about that is funny.”

Peter pulled at his top, stretching out the design so it was much clearer. It was a Ferris wheel except instead of carts, there were little Fe symbols with blocky writing underneath it stating, ‘Ferrous Wheel’. It was awful, corny but it was one of Peter’s favourite t-shirts anyway. He was going to be sad if he ever grew out of it (which was looking less and less likely as he seemed to be stopping at a painfully short height). Well, short people ruled the world, or rather Tony Stark did, so it couldn’t be all bad. 

“I like it.”

“We are getting you something without…chemistry puns on it.”

“Sure thing.” Was he going to wear them if they didn’t? Who knew. 

The stupidity of the entire exchange was enough for both of them to lower their guard. Loki changed too now, though it was quick. Not quick enough, though, to not see the scars. It was nothing new. Peter had seen Bucky’s scars too, though he’d been careful not to comment on them, or the arm, really, even though it was really cool and he really wanted to look at it one day. You know, for science. 

But today, it seemed Peter’s mouth was working before his brain when he blurted, “shit.” Loki’s head flung around and he shoved his loose jumper over his torso with supernatural speed. 

“Sorry, you shouldn’t have seen that.” Loki looked genuinely ashamed, his head bowed and eyes trailing along the lines of the tiles until they were staring longingly in the distance like he was about teleport there. Except, as Peter had already seen, Loki didn’t need to look at his destination to teleport there. Or whatever it was Loki did that apparently wasn’t teleportation at all and was a lot about invisibility, apparitions and a lot of running. 

“No, it’s fine. Bucky has scars too. They just…surprised me. Didn’t think gods got scars.” Peter’s heart was in his throat now, a familiar anxiety pushing his body to go flying, or just to move, to do anything but confront this conversation and bring it to its natural end. He wanted out as much as Loki did. Except confrontation of issues was normally what started their resolution and in the name of helping Loki and all, he couldn’t turn back now.

“Anyone can get scars with enough pain.” Peter gulped. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound maudlin.”

“S-sounds like you have reason to be.”

“It was Thanos, if you’re wondering.”

“Kinda,” Peter admitted. This honesty thing was coming out a lot easier nowadays, even if the guilt afterwards still didn’t fade. 

“What did he do to you?” Peter asked, after a little too long had passed.

“He tortured me.” It was left at that, neither of them wanting to go further into it. They averted their eyes to the ground as they continued to change, their eyes only making their way back up when Peter had slung his bag over his shoulder. 

Abruptly, he dropped the bag back down to the floor. He swallowed thickly and ordered, “I want to know what happened.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“If I’m gonna…help your redemption or whatever, I want to know what happened. Wanda won’t tell us anything.”

“She’s a trustworthy teammate.”

“I know but it doesn’t help us right now.”

“No,” Loki sighed, “it doesn’t.” He took a seat on the bench and looked directly at himself in the mirrored, almost ashamed of what he saw. No longer was the silver prince, draped in fine linens with a permanent smirk adorning his face. Now was just a lost man in Midgardian attire with nothing to his name but his perpetual arrogance and a claim that he’d once tried to take over this planet. He saw how tired he was; saw the bags under his eyes that shouldn’t have claimed him so young. He wouldn’t be surprised if grey started coming through, even though it shouldn’t have for yet another millennia. 

Peter watched Loki stare at himself, taking a seat on the bench, the metre between them feeling like a mile. The mirror was an ugly reflection in a room like this, where the fluorescent bulbs exposed the very worst of scarred skin and imperfections. It also made Peter’s hair go a muddy colour, made worse by the sudden pallor of his skin, which only served to make him look ill. 

“I fell from the Bifrost,” Loki started with, picking at the skin on his knuckles, the white skin healing faster than he could turn it red. “I was lost in space. I shouldn’t have survived but my magic kept healing me and eventually…” Loki swallowed thickly, “eventually Thanos found me.”

“Why? I mean, why would he save you? If he’s such a maniac, I mean.”

“I was of use to him. Had ties to the Tesseract. It’s been in Asgard’s possession for a long time. I told him it had been lost on Midgard a long time ago. I will admit, I did not hesitate to throw your country under the metaphorical bus to save my own skin but that’s just how it was.”

“You’re really enjoying American idioms, aren’t you?”

Loki smirked, glad for the impermanent diversion. “They are rather fun. Asgardian language, although universal, is a lot duller.” Loki leant his head back against the tiled wall and let the silence fall again, if only to gain his wits before he opened his mouth to continue. “Thanos didn’t let me go. Instead, he said I had to go get it. I…well, I was going to. Steal it back from Earth and then use it to escape. It would be an easy job and hardly put anyone but Thanos in a worse position. But Thanos was too clever for that. He knew who I was, what I would do.”

Loki shut his eyes for a moment, his breath coming in broken shudders. “I was already broken at this point. The fall from the Bifrost had damaged me more than you imagine and my plan was barely thought through. I was naive to think it would ever work. The first thing Thanos did was beat me. He made me fear him. He knew I did not; I was arrogant, had been taught my whole life that Asgardians were the superior race that we could beat anyone-“ Loki broke off mid-sentence and pursed his lips. “I’d been told much of my life that I was not much of a warrior yet I could win every match. They called it cheating, I called it cunning.

“I thought I could defeat Thanos with it. The man is a brute but I will admit now, without regret, that he is certainly the cleverest brute I’ve ever come across. So he tortured me and then used the mind stone to warp my view. He knew I wanted to rule, had beaten it out of me, and when he used the stone, it was all I could think about. More than the stone. I just knew if I got that stone, I would get the planet.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because there was as much a flaw in his plan as mine. One, he wanted it done quickly so he pushed me to do it in a way that was clearly not in line with my own hopes. I’m not a man of subjugation. My whole deity status is based on chaos, I wouldn’t want my subjugates to be bound by law. But the quickest way to take power is to do so. So I did. And that was enough to create a conflict of interest. Enough that I could put in a few fail-safes when I was in sound mind, though it wasn’t for long.”

“So you were manipulated into it all?”

“No. Not really. I was scared and I wanted to rule. He was just unlucky enough not to present it in the way I wanted.”

“Shit,” Peter said, as if someone had just told him their third cousin once removed had died.

“Yeah, shit sounds about right.” And in an entirely morbid, and completely unsuitable, way, they began to laugh. Not the laughter of a joke but just something to release the energy, anything. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter apologised, “god, I shouldn’t be laughing. This is awful.”

“Sometimes laughter is the only way to get past pain. I don’t mind. I think it helps.”

“Good because, well, shit, I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“But you did and I did too so we’ll put it behind us, shall we?” Loki gave Peter a kind smile, something that touched a little too close to fatherly for either of their liking. Not that either of them would point it out. Ever.

_ Ever. _

“You blame yourself, don’t you?” Peter asked suddenly. 

“Of course I do. I am not a good man but I have enough honour to know my own mistakes.”

“Then I’ll think you’ll be fine?”

Loki almost jumped with surprise. “Hm?”

“I think you’ll be fine, good even, at this redemption thing. If you know what you did was wrong and you don’t want to do it again, well, that’s the only place to really start from. You don’t want to do it again right, do you?”

“No. I don’t think I do anymore.”

“Good. That’s good.” Peter looked up at Loki, still a little taken aback by his height, and smiled. Loki looked right back, something fluttering in his heart. That smile looked dangerously like hope.

~*~

MJ found Loki before their Wednesday session with some help from JARVIS. Luckily, or so she thought, he wasn’t in his apartment, but rather the common room upstairs, where she found Loki and Steve awkwardly staring at each other but not talking. She wanted to sigh, even if she did feel a little guilty; Steve was clearly torn between fight or flight, or else MJ could find no other reason his eyes kept flickering to the door but his body was leaning forward like he was about to pounce.

She cleared her throat, pulling the attention of the room. “I wanted to talk to Loki alone. If that’s okay,” she added, remembering her manners, probably a little too late. She still wasn’t quite used to trying to be socially acceptable; reclusiveness, if anything, gave her an excuse to lose all of them. Now, there was all this…well, trying not to offend people with her sheer brashness. It was an effort but an effort she was willing to put in if it meant she could keep what she had.

“Of course,” Loki said, standing. “Where would you like to sit?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve cut in, “I’ll leave this room to you. JARVIS will make sure you’re not disturbed.”

“Of course,” the robotic voice agreed. MJ would never get used to that. (It was fucking amazing, though). 

Loki sat back down, wary but open, as MJ took Steve’s seat opposite, leaving ample space between them. “Peter seems to have changed his mind about you.”

“He has?”

“He talks about you more, at school. It’s nothing he says that he’s different but he acts differently when talking about you now.”

“You’re very observant.”

“So it’s been said.”

“It’s not a criticism,” Loki assured, “observation is as crucial a skill as any. I mean it well.”

“Then thank you.”

“So what is it you came to say?”

“I just want to figure out what happened to make Peter change his mind.”

“Are you still wary of me?”

“I have a right to be.”

“I guess so.” Though Loki seemed put out by the concept. “We talked about my past. I explained some of it.”

“Then I want to hear it too.” The sudden thought to be more polite struck her as it so often did now but she ignored it. Now wasn’t the time to try and be soft. Loki was renowned for being able to find cracks in your facade; if she wanted to be safe, she had to be careful. Only if. She was just hedging her bets. 

“I guess I told him about-“

“Not what you told him. All of it. I want to know everything.”

Loki swallowed and a pregnant pause took up enough time for MJ to feel a rush of fear churn her gut. Finally, Loki spoke again. “Okay. I’ll start from the beginning then.”

And he did. He went from his childhood, cutting down the story to fit into the time frame they had before the session, and went through a thousand years of life. This time he told everything: the good and the bad. MJ was glad. She wanted to know all of it, to make her own mind up, rather than hear his weak excuses. 

Although, when it came to Jotunheim, he couldn’t help but add, “no one holds Thor accountable, although his actions were just as bad as mine, if not worse.”

“Was he not exiled here?”

“He was but my father has ruined men for less than that, sometimes even killed them. And he would have done the same for me. I would have been jailed. Instead, my brother gets exile to a planet that’s far more advanced than we had known, something my fath- Odin would  _ know _ , or at least Heimdall would and he is faithful to him. And now the Midgardian’s worship him just as they once did but I am reviled. Not for a bad reason, of course, but I must push that Thor is no hero, no more than I am.”

“That’s your argument? That you may be kinda bad but so is Thor?”

“You use your words to make it sound worse but yes, that is what I’m saying. I am not above acknowledging that I am bitter but I believe I have good reason.”

“Maybe,” MJ shrugged.

“He caused the war; I merely finished it.”

“Just continue with the story.” MJ wouldn’t admit yet that his words were swaying her. She didn’t think she would admit today even if they did sway her. These sorts of things took time to figure out; some careful consideration was necessary before she jumped in the pro-Loki wagon.

So he finished the story. How he fell from the Bifrost, the brutality of being lost in space, surpassed by the brutality of Thanos’ hand. How the sceptre warped him, how he put fail-safes in so the Avengers would win, and then how he had ended up back in prison on Asgard. How Thor had broken him out to help him, only for them to get thrown out of the Bifrost and end up on a planet miles away, where they’d found the Hulk. He finished the story with Ragnarok, a seemingly complete end to the story of his life.

Yet here he still was.

Stories always go on, even after the pages are finished.

“I get why Peter has changed.”

“And what about you?”

“Give me some time.”

“You have all the time you need.”

“Okay then,” she said curtly and stood up. “You coming with me then? I think we’re late.”

“Of course.” When Loki followed, he was astonished by just how easy she’d been to talk to (and how impossibly brave she was for a mere human teenager. How brave they  _ all _ were).

~*~

On Friday, Bucky was almost thrown out of his skin when MJ called out to him, a testament to how much he was still struggling with intrusion into his space. MJ being in the apartment wasn’t new but it was still uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said, eyeing him warily.

"It’s fine. Just…I’ll get used to it.”

She narrowed her eyes but easily agreed with a quiet, “okay. I just wanted to say that…I think Loki’s a good addition to the team.”

“You do?”

“He told me everything. His whole…life story thing. I’ve thought about it. I don’t think he’s… _ all _ evil.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She nodded decisively and turned back around.

~*~

“Bucky! I was hoping to run into you,” Peter shouted, breathing a little heavily. He had a few boxes in his arms, no doubt running another transport run for Stark. “I just wanted to say, I think Loki’s a good guy. Or will be, anyway. I- I think you made a good call.”

Peter ran off before Bucky could say anything leaving him wondering, what the hell was he saying to these kids (and when was Bucky going to hear it?).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the posts I had in a back log so now they’re just going to come out when I write them. Bit annoying but I didn’t expect just how exhausting uni would be. I still have loads of time to write but I’m really struggling to. Hope that’s okay with you guys, hope there’ll be a post soon :)


	11. Family I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you 'https://flurgburgler.tumblr.com' for the outfit ideas!

February bled into March at a sluggish yet impossible fast pace. Not much had happened over the last week as Bucky tried to cling back to life, grappling onto whatever positive thoughts he could. Steve helped, as he always did, but he was still slipping. He was making efforts to be better, though, and he was smiling more, even if sometimes it felt a little forced.

And part of that process was facing the things he struggled with. Namely, two of the most recent things: struggling to have others in his space and the social anxiety he felt about the group. So, in a terrifying combination that could lead to disaster, Bucky sent a message to the group with his plan.

===

_ (Instagram DM) _ : BETTER TEAM THAN THE AVENGERS

_ Peter Parker was active 1hr ago. _

_ Yesterday: 10:03pm _

**BB added Loki Friggason to the group**

About tomorrow, how would you guys like to come to my apartment? Thought we could do some baking/cooking. Need something for my birthday.

WM: You didn’t say it was your birthday??

LF: It’s Thursday

I’m not even going to question you knowing that. But yeah it’s my birthday on Thursday.

PP: Are you having a party??

Dunno. was thinking Wednesday would be a celebration of some kind

WM: Then we’re going full out. I’m bringing ingredients for a birthday dinner

MJ: I can make pies…kinda

PP: (She means she did it once and it kind of failed but it was edible)

MJ: It went brilliantly

WM:  _ Suuuure _

LF: I do not have much experience with baking but I have been told I am a capable cook. I can bring some Asgardian spices.

WM: Loki and I are on food then. The rest of you need to learn how to make a pie quickly

PP: Should it not be a cake

Don’t like cake (and won’t hear anything about that being a bad thing, I’ve had it enough from Steve)

PP: but… _ cake _

Yeah yeah, sue me. I like apple pie better. And yes Steve also likes it. We’re very American

MJ: I’ll bring ingredients if you want?

No need. should have everything around here. Unless you have a rolling pin?

MJ: I’ll bring one

I’ll see you guys tomorrow then :)

===

Cooking. It had been a good plan when he’d thought of it but with the team arriving in an hour, the plan was starting to feel more and more like a mistake. Bucky had already reordered the kitchen three times, his eyes darting desperately around to find something,  _ anything _ , to fix. Just to fill time and do something.

“It’ll be fine,” Steve sighed.

“I know.”

“You’re almost shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know. Just don’t work yourself up about it.”

“I’m not.” Steve gave him a look. “Fine, I am. But this is a big deal.”

“I know it is. But it’ll be fine. And it will really help.”

“I know, that’s why I thought of it.”

“And it will be fun.”

“It better be.”

Steve came around the island and pressed a kiss against Bucky’s temple. “Come on, let’s sit on the sofa for a bit. Watch some TV. It’ll take your mind off it.”

“But I-“ He stopped himself; there really was nothing left to do. Hence why waking up earlier than usual had been a stupid idea. “Fine. But just for a bit.”

“‘Course.” 

They went to the living room, cuddling up on the couch, watching bad home renovation shows as Steve calmly ran his hand up and down Bucky’s arm. Slowly but surely, his breath began to match up to the gentle up and down movements and although he was still on edge, he sure felt like he was less likely to fall off it.

“You know, I just wanted to say something,” Steve began awkwardly, as the couple on-screen critiqued the windows’ size (Bucky thought they were unimaginably spoilt).

“Hm, what?”

“You know, I’m just proud of you, you know. Doing all this. Keeping your head above water.”

Bucky couldn’t have kept his lips straight if he wanted to, his smile blooming like a flower. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s been hard and you just…keep going.”

“I’ve got a lot of people helping me. And you know, you’re really doing better with this communication thing.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve suddenly let a harsh breath, turning so he could look Bucky in the eye. There was a smile budging the corner of his lips but he didn’t seem to be letting it happen, the anxiety in his eyes a harsh contrast. “So I’ve kind of got an early birthday gift for you.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” he admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Bucky didn’t know what to feel. Excited? Worried? Betrayed? No, he didn’t feel betrayed. Mildly annoyed, maybe, but Steve always had his reasons. 

“Didn’t want to get your hopes up. I…went around a few, met them all. Nat’s idea. And I found one I really like. Dr Martin. She’s nice. She’s eighty.”

Bucky laughed. “Of course she’s eighty.”

“She just…she kind of remembers it, you know? Not quite. But…it helps. Her pa fought in the war, came back different. It was the reason she went into psychology. I just…thought she was really nice.”

“That’s great. How long have you been seeing her?”

“Only the once properly, not just the interviews. On Sunday.”

Bucky hit his arm playfully. “You said you were going to see Tony! I was worried!”

“About me seeing Tony?”

“Of course I was. You two are going to start a civil war if you keep it up.” 

“We’re not that bad.”

“You kinda are. But never mind that, you’re going to therapy!”

“Stop grinning like that! It’s not that big a deal.”

“Kinda is.”

“Fine. But let’s not make it one, okay?”

“Of course. I don’t want to push you.”

“I know.” Steve smiled wanly. “Just want to be careful. This whole thing didn’t go so well last time.” Fuck Hydra  _ and _ SHIELD. “But it was alright. She said I had…communication issues.”

“Think we all knew that. But it’s not so bad. And you  _ are _ getting a lot better.”

“Good to know. I think.”

“It is. A good thing, I mean. Now, shush, I want to hear why this woman keeps whining about the very lovely kitchen.” 

“Well, it  _ is _ sorta-“

“Shush.”

They sat in companionable silence, Alpine finally gracing them with her presence, her head leant on Bucky’s leg as she curled herself into a tight ball, purposefully as far from Steve as she could be whilst still in contact with Bucky.

Alpine and Steve had an…interesting relationship. Which was to say, it was absolutely hilarious. Mostly because Steve tried to treat her like a human whilst also trying to avoid her - tried and tested - sharp claws. That very morning, Steve had refused to make breakfast because Alpine had decided to sleep in the middle of the kitchen floor (where the sun hit in the morning, they’d realised later) and had insisted on waiting on the periphery, willing the cat awake in just his underwear.

It had made for an interesting picture.

Then, when Alpine finally stretched out her paws, her white fur bristling, he had greeted her with a seemingly prim, “good morning, Alpine. How are you this morning?” Bucky, who had just walked in, turned around and walked straight back into the bedroom, shut the door, and just laughed. (Steve, unfortunately, had super-hearing and could hear it even with a shut door between them, though he appeared not to mind. He never minded Bucky laughing, whether it was at his expense or not.)

Even now, with his eyes still on the TV, he muttered a quiet, “hello, Alpine.” Bucky snorted and didn’t say anything more. 

Finally, Bucky got back up (ignoring Alpine’s impossibly sharp claws in his thigh) and fiddled with his things one last time, just in time for the buzzer to go off. Of course, Loki was the first to arrive. “Happy birthday. I brought wine,” he said with a small smile, handing over an overly-priced bottle of Merlot with a date that Bucky didn’t even want to contemplate.

“Thanks,” he said, although he wondered why it was necessary. Everyone currently in this room couldn’t get drunk off it and he hadn’t really ever had enough wine to know what was even nice. Wine wasn’t exactly in the books for a kid as poor as him and then later, well, what was the point? “Come in,” Bucky ushered, his heart rate elevated but steady. 

Loki took in stock of the room, appraising it with easy eyes. “This is a nice place,” he admired, seemingly truthfully. Bucky was proud; they’d put effort into their apartment, really made it feel like home. From the worn but stupidly soft couch to the flatscreen TV to the stupid colour-coordinated bookshelf that held all their most colourful titles, whilst the rest were stored in their bedroom. It was artsy, with Steve’s paintings hung around the room (most of them new), with an old-fashioned touch with its hardwood floors and handcrafted counters.

Loki didn’t look out of place in it either, wearing a dark green shirt with black slacks and green breeches giving it a very 30s touch. It was modern yet old, just like two old fogeys in the room. “Looking good,” Bucky said.

“You too.” And it wasn’t, really. Bucky had struggled, trying to find something both comfortable and fashionable. In his current state, the looser the better, so he’d ended up with his replacement pink jumper, the one that hung low and could easily cover his hands with a pair of tight black trousers with an elasticated waist which weren’t the best looking but were mostly covered by the jumper. With his hair tied back in a bun, he knew he looked like a modern (pretty gay) man. 

Steve watched the encounter warily but he couldn’t hide from Bucky the way he looked down at his own white t-shirt and paint-stained jeans with a little embarrassment. Bucky just smiled at him, before leading Loki into the kitchen. Steve would be staying out the way for the day, most likely hiding in the bedroom, trying to work Bucky’s laptop to get some of the more boring parts of Avengers work done. He’d probably just answer a few emails (fan and business) before giving up and going on Sims. 

He denied he ever played it but Bucky had  _ seen _ the save, he wasn’t an idiot. All he could say: Steve was an  _ evil _ player.

Bucky put the wine on the counter and stared at it. “We don’t really have wine glasses here.”

“Oh. Well,” Loki waved his hand, two glasses appearing on the counter, “from my apartment.”

“Wow. I really am in the future.”

“I have been able to do that since before you were born.”

“Yeah, yeah, your snark will get you nowhere. No! Don’t say anything, I know you’re about to say something bad and I don’t want to hear it.”

“If you wish.”

Bucky laughed, almost startled when the buzzer went off again. “I’ll be right back.”

Surprised to find himself smiling, if still a little anxious, he opened the door for MJ and Wanda (Peter was last  _ again _ ) and ushered them inside. Both of them had seen the apartment before but still used this as an opportunity to have a bit more of a peek around, leaving a ‘happy birthday’ in their wake, as Bucky went to get his glass of wine, sipping it with doubt, surprised that the taste wasn’t particularly  _ awful _ (not nice, but not awful). Steve, by now, had disappeared, though he’d probably poke his head out later to say hi. He was an auxiliary member, after all.

Loki was now in an in depth stroking session with Alpine, watching her with laser focus as she purred, though he seemed content enough.

Peter arrived barely five minutes later, less flustered than usual but with ten apologises on his lips for being late (which was stupid, it was literally quarter past, that didn’t constitute as late. But, well, they had a punctual group) followed by a rather harried ‘happy birthday!’. And also sporting…well, a big t-shirt.

“Interesting choice.”

“Yeah, couldn’t get it in any other size but I knew Loki was going to love it.”

“Loki?”

“Oh dear god, what have I started,” the man breathed, coming out from behind the kitchen counter to stare at the monstrosity on Peter’s chest. The t-shirt pretty much hung to his knees and was otherwise white except for the bold block lettering in the middle stating ‘you’re a 10? Maybe because you’re on the pH scale and you’re  _ basic _ ’. It was awful, in every way. It wasn’t concise enough to be on a t-shirt, nor funny enough to be a joke at all, yet there it was, in all its glory.

“Thought you’d like it.” Peter beamed, his teeth gleaming ominously. 

“What is going on?” Bucky asked incredulously. 

“Loki offered me some style advice so, well, I thought I’d show him my sense of style.”

“This is worse than I first imagined.” Peter laughed and went to join MJ and Wanda with another cheeky grin thrown back at them. Bucky blinked. “For some reason, I feel old.”

“You get used to it.”

Bucky sighed. “Guess you do.”

After another five minutes of prying, they finally all made it in the kitchen. Now, it was time for Wanda to take the reins, clapping her hands together. “Okay, so, Loki and I are going to make a casserole. MJ, Peter, Bucky, you’re going to make an apple pie. I brought a recipe so just follow that.  _ Carefully _ .” 

They nodded, looking like ducklings following their mother. Wanda stared at them. “So, are you going to start?” Her accent suddenly seeped through thicker than usual; Bucky wondered whether there was something of an old memory in this. 

They snapped out of it and Bucky ordered them to certain cupboards to get all the ingredients as Wanda gave him the sheet of paper with the recipe on it. Wanda and Loki had no such piece of paper but seemed to grab ingredients with an ease that could only come with familiarity. It was almost baffling.

Eventually, they split the kitchen in two with the side nearest the sink being the apple pie team and the furthest team the casserole team. Not that it really  _ was _ teams or anything because, you know, well, Bucky would lose.

And he didn’t like losing.

It was a chaotic start for the AP-Team (as they’d called themselves; a lovely cross of their AP class partaking students and the acronym for apple pie) as they tried to work together cohesively. (And okay, fine, he did want a team. He was going to be the underdog in this competition). In the end, MJ was tasked with sitting on the counter and reading the instructions to them whilst Peter got the ingredients and Bucky measured them out and put them in. 

On the other side of the room, there was silence, yet they seemed to have nearly all the ingredients chopped (though both of them were cheating with magic,  _ so unfair _ ) and the spices lined up in a neat line, Asgardian and Midgardian alike. Team Magic was, unfortunately, in the lead.

Team AP fought onwards. They did the pastry first, with seemingly successful results. Peter was the one to roll it out, his tongue sticking out his lips as he fought to make it even. Super-strength had its perks, though, and it rolled out easier than it could have (though only on the second attempt, after they realised they had to put flour on it before rolling it. Though why the recipe didn’t tell you that, Bucky didn’t know). 

Alpine joined them as they moved onto the filling, though she apparently sided with Team Magic, weaving through their legs with a purr, neither of the two sorcerers bothered by the investigative feline.

Traitor.

They set the pastry aside and collected the ingredients for the filling. “Sugar first, then cinnamon, then cornflour.”

“You gotta tell me how much,” Bucky complained, rolling his eyes.

“5oz of the caster sugar stuff, 1tsp of cinnamon and 2tbsp of cornflour.”

“Got it.”

Peter handed over the ingredients and Bucky measured them out dutifully, and mixed them together before adding the apple.

Wanda turned to them, seemingly finished. “You didn’t preheat the oven.”

“Shit,” Bucky hissed. “MJ, why didn’t you say?”

“It’s not on here!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. My oven takes forever.”

“And you didn’t put the pastry in the fridge.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“I did say,” MJ intervened.

Bucky leant his forehead on the counter and encircled his head in his arms. “I hate life.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Peter said and sprinkled something on his hair.

“If you just put something in my hair, we are about to go to war.”

“Didn’t do anything.”

Bucky stood up, eyes narrowed, and felt his hair. “Did you put fucking  _ flour _ in my  _ hair _ ?!”

“No.”

“Oh, you are in for it.” Bucky grinned and reached for the flour himself, grabbing a careless handful and clouding the kitchen as he threw it in Peter’s face. A spluttering mess, Peter retaliated easily and then it was war.

Loki and Wanda moved out of the firing line, though that was more Loki’s doing because Wanda was already cackling. MJ, luckily, was too far away to begin with but even she was smirking. Peter laughed as he managed another hit on Bucky, staining his lovely jumper an ugly shade of grey. 

In retaliation, Bucky took the whole bag and dumped it on Peter’s head, leaving him gasping.

And at that exact moment, Steve finally decided to come out of the bedroom. “I’m not getting involved.” He went back in. 

Bucky started laughing. Probably maniacally but certainly loud. Endless peals of laughter that didn’t seem to stop. Easily, the others joined in, all looking confused but seemingly laughing anyway. Loki stared at all of them, eyebrows furrowed, but even his lips quirked up eventually, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

When it died down, they got back to work, yet it was as if a barrier had been broken. Bucky amicably ruffled Peter’s hair (ignoring the copious amount of flour that floated off him) as he went to put the pie in the (now hot) oven and even fist-bumped MJ as he passed. Loki and Wanda were off in the corner, laughing at some private conversation as MJ swung lazily in circles on the island stool. 

It was perfect. 

It was moments like these that Bucky had felt were lost but they weren’t, they really weren’t, he just had to work for them. And dear god, he’d been an idiot, panicking about them coming around. It was all in his head, it didn’t make  _ sense _ . Now that they were here, he was just…glad. Endlessly glad.

If there was a way he could say that to them, he would, but he knew they would just brush it off. He needed to think of a gesture. But, well, that would come into implementation later. And not just for this, but for everything, for being here when only Steve was. For giving him another chance. For giving him hope before his freedom, a reason to strive for more.

He was in love with Steve, but he  _ loved _ his team. So much.

The next few hours are spent just chatting, meandering through recent activities, catching up. For once, nothing heavy, nothing worrying, just mundane. With the lives they led, they all needed a little mundane.

Eventually, though, they had to attend to the food. Team Magic slowly stirred the casserole and put it back in the oven as Team AP took the apple pie out of the oven, where they could leave it to cool.

Time passed easily here, like water slipping through their hands. Bucky’s anxiety sometimes spiked and then seemed to settle in the same breath. Alpine had curled up in Bucky’s lap and Peter was still trying to get the flour off in the bathroom. Then Steve came out to say hi, again, and stayed out this time, throwing himself into an in-depth art discussion with MJ and, surprisingly, Loki, with seemingly no worries about the trickster god. 

Bucky pulled him aside. “You seem to be…talking to him.”

“I know. I still won’t trust him, not as a part of the team, but he’s been helping us. Properly helping us. And he makes you smile. I’m doing my best to try and put the past behind me.”

Bucky couldn’t tamper his grin and eventually caved, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Have I ever said how great you are?”

“Maybe a time or two.”

Bucky whacked him on the shoulder, which was as good as any ‘I love you’ out there and returned to his discussion with Wanda and Peter about school. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion they were leaving some things out but who was he to interrupt the mood, he’d ask next time. He could let it linger for a few days more.

Finally, the casserole was out and they ate bundled up on their far-too-small sofa, some of them relegated to the floor, as they complimented Team Magic on their flawless execution (though Bucky was adamant it was the Asgardian spice which was  _ totally cheating _ ). Once they’d finished, it was time to dig into the pie. It was still just warm enough, having sat in the oven for the better part of a few hours, so Bucky sliced it up and put it on plates, proudly presenting it to each person.

It looked good, he was allowed to.

Then Wanda took a bite and all the presentation was for nothing. She literally spit it out. Loki, who’d taken a bite just after managed to swallow it down but his face had screwed up enough to make his usually elegant features childish. 

“What? Is it that bad?” Bucky hastily took a bite.

_ HOLY SHIT IT WAS THAT BAD _ .

“What the hell did I do?”

Steve took a bite then and swallowed it with seemingly little issue. “It’s very salty,” he commented, looking - at most - slightly displeased. (Steve wasn’t only a bad cook, he had also apparently lost all sense of taste over the years; it was inexplicable. His taste and his taste in fashion were equally awful). 

“What did you put in this?” Wanda asked.

“What it said on the recipe!”

“There was  _ no _ salt in that recipe.”

“I know that. I put it on the counter and then I put it back when I saw we didn’t need it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, I’ll prove it to you.” They were lazy enough to have not cleared the ingredients away yet, most of them still sitting on the countertop. And there was the cornflour and next to it…the salt.

“Peter,” Bucky enunciated, “did you pass me the salt instead of the cornflour?”

Peter stared the packet in Bucky’s hand. A second passed. “Maybe.”

Bucky hung his head in shame, dropped the salt on the counter and wiped his hands desperately over his face. “This is why I don’t cook.”

“Technically it was baking,” Wanda said.

“And you really should have checked what Peter was handing to you,” MJ added. 

“It was his job!” Bucky said. “But fine. Maybe I should have checked.” Bucky sighed but he was smiling suddenly, a coagulated mess of disappointment and humour in his chest. 

“Okay, who wants to go to the bakery?”

They all stared at him. 

“Fine,  _ I’ll _ go to the bakery, even though it’s  _ my _ birthday, but you guys better not do anything stupid until I get back.”

“Your birthday isn’t today!” Peter shouted.

“Technically, this is your fault,” Wanda said over him.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said over all of them. 

Bucky gave Steve a glare that could have toppled planets. But he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat stuff was pretty much entirely taken from @incorrectbucko on twitter. Sorry, I don’t like to outright copy like that but I just think their account is the best thing ever and couldn’t help myself. Seriously, go check them out.
> 
> As usual, literally all responses are welcome here, I love to hear from you!


	12. Family II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things take a down turn. Sorry, it just had to happen.
> 
> I'm oddly happy with this chapter, though, so I hope you like it :)

**THE WINTER SOLDIER TEAM: REVEALED!**

_ New pictures taken outside of the Winter Soldier’s - James Barnes’ - apartment show a group of three teenagers. Could this be the same three teenagers from his team? We think so! _

A picture outside of James Barnes’ (aka the Winter Soldier) apartment shows three members of the public which we expect to be his new superhero team. There has been speculation that Barnes has been training with the next generation of Avengers, despite his lack of involvement in the current group.

The three teenagers have not yet been identified but we do know that one of them is the New York vigilante Spider-Man! Speculation on the internet says it could be Peter Parker, a student at…(read more)

~*~

They’re rumours. Just rumours. But rumours have been strong enough to take down civilisations before, if left to rot, and Bucky knew a disaster when he saw one. A year, a whole year, and this was how it all fell apart: a goddamn gossip magazine with a blurry shot he would have known had been taken.

But he had still been inside the apartment.

Loki had clearly noticed, although not enough to be clever about it. He wasn’t in the photo at all, clearly concealed. Maybe he hadn’t noticed it at all and was always concealed to the general public when outside.

Bucky didn’t know what to think anymore.

“You need to breathe,” Steve said.

“I AM FUCKING BREATHING!” Bucky snapped, though he had to heave in a breath afterwards; it felt both like fire and wind all at one, burning through his system whilst relieving the unbelievable pressure that had built up. “Shit, sorry, that was…I’m going to fucking punch something.”

“I know.” Steve looked furious too, but he was holding together his edges so Bucky could let his go, crouching in front of the couch so he could Bucky’s knees, rubbing soothing circles again and again and again-

“This is it, isn’t it.”

“What?”

“All of this. The team. The friends. The goddamn…shit,” Bucky cut off, choking on half a sob before drawing himself back up and shutting it all off his face, leaving only the vapid expression of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t do that.”

Bucky just looked down at Steve and said nothing, although his eyebrow twitched as if in pain. “I need to talk to them.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get everyone together tomorrow. Maybe when I usually do art with MJ. Get them all over here.”

“Yeah…yeah, that sounds good.” Bucky sighed, his face falling again. For today, he’d break apart. Tomorrow, he’d put on a good face.

Happy fucking birthday to him.

~*~

The team didn’t throw Bucky a lifesaver when he messaged them. If anything, they were even worse off. Peter, he knew, had gone completely off the grid, after a message saying that he had to make sure Aunt May was safe. Wanda had sent nothing but a bland ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’. She was like Bucky; her first port of call was to shut down before anything else. The emotional wreckage would happen later. 

MJ was less severe in her reaction; she’d taken the honesty lessons to heart, sending along, ‘I’ll be around tomorrow. This is all pretty awful but maybe we can sort it out. My mum hasn’t seen it yet so don’t think it's reached mainstream news yet’. 

It was the only bit of good news he’d had.

But come Friday, no one showed up at his house. After Bucky sent a panicked message, Peter had just messaged that he couldn’t make it (nothing more, nothing less). There was radio silence from MJ and Wanda.

Loki, who’d been watching from the sidelines, finally asked: ‘is there anything I can do to help?’

Bucky didn’t answer him. 

So, despite Steve’s attempts to get him to wait (as if the bastard had ever been patient himself), Bucky decided to travel across the boroughs to MJ’s house in Queens. That was the start of it.

The street was almost supernaturally empty, the bustle of New York dimmed to a quiet that felt impossible. The smells, too, seemed to take to the background, leaving only the gentle smell of the city (some kind of cross between car exhausts and people). It was like Bucky was in a sad, dystopian film where he was the only man left on the planet, left to wander the empty streets with just as empty a heart (was that him just being melodramatic again? Probably). 

He’d only been here once but his memory served him well. The house was just as quiet as the rest of the street, emanating nothing but silence with one light on in the living room. 

Bucky knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked again. 

“Get off my property.” It was as if one moment the door had been closed and the next it was open with seemingly no in between. Angela stood there, her braids tied back into a low ponytail, exposing her face and making it all the more clear that she was in no mood to see him. Bucky powered on regardless.

“I was just wondering whether MJ and Wanda were here. They were supposed to message but they hadn’t been in contact. I was worried-“

“Worried?” Angela cried hysterically. “Oh, you were  _ worried _ . And I wonder why that is? Maybe because you’ve dragged my daughter into a world of superheroes, where she could just as easily die!” 

“It’s not like that-“

“Oh, really? You know, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I knew your history. Knew who you were, yet I hoped it was something else. Didn’t believe you for a second about this languages crap but I goddamn hoped it wasn’t this. And now? They know me and my daughter are affiliated to you and your  _ team _ ,” she sneered, “do you know where that puts us? Do you know how dangerous a position you’ve forced us in?”

At that moment, Bucky couldn’t begin to say a word. Now he knew why this woman was a lawyer.

“Do you?”

“I do. I really do. This was never meant to happen.”

“You knew it was a risk when you decided to start these stupid sessions. I shouldn’t have let MJ be involved from the start. Goodbye, Mr Barnes.” She went to slam the door but Bucky was already forcing it open. He hadn’t meant to; it was just a reflex. But it was already too late.

“What do you think you’re doing.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I just want to-“

“What right do you think you have to barge into my house? I guess they were right: awful men never change.” Bucky couldn’t move, the words like a gut punch delivered by a god. His legs were paralysed, though his hand slowly fell from the door, allowing it to slam between them.

He stared at it, eyes tracing the details of the wood, deluding himself that soon enough it would open again and he’d see the other side.

He didn’t. 

He tried once more anyway; this time, he called MJ. It wouldn’t help him any but at least he could say goodbye. If that’s what this was…

“Bucky.” She sounded scared, tense, but she forged through it. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. My mum wouldn’t let me. I don’t know how long before she comes back in but-“

“I talked to her. I’m at your front door.”

Within a few seconds, a light in the second-floor window turned on, and MJ’s head popped out. “What the hell?!” She hissed.

“You didn’t pick up. I assumed the worst.”

“My mum is going to kill you!”

“I think she already has.”

MJ’s face dropped. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. It’s fine. As long as you’re okay. How’s Wanda?”

“Not good. She’s scared. Think we all are.”

Bucky nodded slowly and lowered his eyes. He couldn’t hold it for long, he had to angle his head up to speak to her; it felt almost vulnerable like this, unable to mask the expressions on his face. “I’m sorry. For all of this. It’s my fault.”

“We signed up willingly.” She didn’t say it wasn’t his fault, though; he was the one who had posted the picture. 

“What about slamming the door in your face did you not understand?” 

Shit.

Angela stood, her furious expression now flaming, her dark skin burning redder. “Did I say you could talk to my daughter? Go!”

“Angela, wait,” Wanda had appeared behind her, tear tracks staining her cheeks, her eyes a puffy red that matched her hair. “It’s not his fault.”

“So whose is it? Because I really don’t understand this. And MJ, get out of that window right now!” Her voice was notably harsher with her own daughter but Wanda looked somehow more cowed as MJ came down the stairs. 

Well, they were all here now. 

“It is my fault,” Bucky interrupted, “you don’t have to defend me, Wanda. I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

“Oh, because that’s a good excuse?” Angela snorted, all righteous anger; the same he’d seen in MJ, and Steve, and too many goddamn people in his life. “I’m going to put this through your thick skull. You have endangered all of us, you have lost this girl her chance at going to school,” she said, pointing to Wanda, “and forced Peter into a horrible situation. The fact that you’re even allowing a boy that young to swing around New York like some sort of superhero is child abuse.”

Bucky didn’t know what to argue; she was probably right.

“He didn’t encourage us to fight!” Wanda tried to say. “He trained us to defend ourselves-“

“You shouldn’t have to defend yourselves! You are  _ children _ .”

“I was with Hydra before this.” Angela whipped around to face Wanda, who was picking at the corner of her nail, blood already welling up to the surface. “They made me into this. Bucky gave me an opportunity to be on the other side. It was that or join the Avengers with a man I hated and no opportunities at all. He’s the reason I got into school in the first place.”

“Then the Avengers are just as bad as Hydra. No one should have forced you to fight.”

“I was too dangerous-“

“Did you ever get a lawyer?” Angela interrupted. “Did they ever offer you someone to defend you? Did you ever even get a visa?”

“I…I…no.”

“Then I think my point is made.” 

“Wanda, what-“ Oh god and now Steve was here. He looked at the group warily, noticing the tension. “Wanda said I should come?”

“Did she now?” Angela asked. “I think we’re done here. Just know, that man is a child abuser and he won’t see my daughter ever again. What Wanda does is up to her but I very much hope she opts to never see your faces again.” 

The door slammed in their faces. 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered. Only then did the tears fall. Frustration welled up inside him, spurring on tears that felt like nothing he’d felt before. This wasn’t just grief, this was helplessness. How could one day do this? He thought back to Wednesday, where they’d talked and laughed and eaten store-bought pie whilst teasing Bucky relentlessly for his ineptness in the kitchen. And now it was this.

He may not ever see his team again.

He didn’t know he deserved to. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Steve tried but the lie was obvious. “We’ll sort this out.”

“Steve. Stop it. She was right. Fuck.” Bucky fled and all Steve could do was follow.

They never did get around to opening his birthday presents.

~*~

On Friday, Wanda called to say she was moving out and was wondering whether they still had a spare room. Bucky almost said no, Angela’s words still circulating in his mind, but Steve wasn’t going to let him spiral. He said yes for him, knowing he’d be grateful in the long run.

He wondered why she wouldn’t just move back into the Tower but he wasn’t going to question it.

An hour later, he got a call from Peter. “Loki’s found a solution.”

“What?”

“To help me protect my identity.”

Oh, right. That.

“What did he say?”

“Just…would you be up for an interview?”

~*~

“And tonight, we’ll be speaking to the mysterious James Barnes - aka the Winter Soldier - after new pictures have revealed a new team of young superheroes under his mentorship. This is his first interview since the incident in DC since 2014. Alongside him we have Peter Parker, one of Barnes’ students. So, what do you have to say about all this, James?”

“Um, well,” Bucky stared at the cameras, blinking a few times. They were bright, made even more so by sharp eyes, and he just felt  _ watched _ , his paranoia rising from a base six to a panic-inducing eleven. “I just…there’s a few things to clear up.”

“How’s that?”

Bucky quickly glanced at Peter. He somehow looked worse, his whole body tense, his eyes darting to every facet of the room as his hands darted over his upper legs, finally landing on his knees in an awkwardly stiff pose. 

“They were…fairly misinterpreted. I have been teaching a group of teenagers, yes, but not superheroes. They’re predominantly from struggling backgrounds and I’ve been teaching self-defence and languages to them. It’s more of a rehabilitation programme.” It touched on the truth, he guessed, though it was just about as far from it as he could get.

“Oh, wow. Then why the masks?”

“To protect their identity. Though that seems to be out of the bag right now.”

“Peter, you were the one wearing the Spiderman mask in your Instagram photo.” Bucky knew, on the TV screen, that very picture he now despised would be showing. “But apparently you’re not the infamous webbed vigilante.”

“No. I’m just a teenager, going to school,” Peter spat out stiltedly. The interviewer looked like they were feeling just as awkward as them but bound on regardless; that was their job. 

“So, what’s it like being trained under the Winter Soldier.”

“He’s not- we just call him James.” A lie, again, but Bucky really didn’t want the public calling him anything but James. It felt distant, like it wasn’t really him. “His past doesn’t matter. But this team is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and all this,” he said, waving his arms around at the set, “it’s difficult.”

“Did you not expect the media attention when Mr Barnes posted that picture?”

“We were masked,” Peter shrugged. “Didn’t think anyone would find out our identities.”

“So, why the Spiderman mask.”

“Um, well, it’s just…he’s a friend. He let me borrow it.” No one sounded convinced but Peter rambled on regardless. “We do all our lesson stuff in the Tower so we’re kinda friends with the Avengers now and a lot of other super-powered people come through, either to, you know, meet the team or like, become one of them or anything-“

“Are you saying Spiderman is an Avenger now?”

“Oh, no, no, no. That’s not it. He’s just…he comes around, every now and then. New York superheroes, you know, gotta stick together.”

There was a thud on the window outside and at least one camera turned to where Spiderman was clinging to the window, in his signature pose, grinning like a loon. “Hey, Pete! Mr Barnes.”

“Spiderman,” Bucky said with a nod whilst Peter waved nervously, his whole body vibrating. Bucky hoped to all god that people would just think he didn’t like being on camera. This kid couldn’t lie for his life.

And, well, maybe that was Bucky’s fault with all the honesty stuff.

But fuck that, this was more important. 

“Saw you were talking about me! Thought I’d come say hi! Clear some stuff up!” He shouted and god, that voice was spot on.

“Will you come inside?” The interviewer asked, her eyes glowing like she’d just caught the story of the year (she very well might have; superheroes were a big deal now). 

“Sorry, no can do, I’ve got a city to save.” No one was going to mention that Spiderman only really worked at night, even if there were a few rare times where he swung around New York in the daylight (despite Bucky’s warnings). “Was nice seeing you all. Oh, and tell the Avengers I’ll be over soon!”

~*~

Loki finally got back to the Tower, shedding the illusion off as he walked into the conference room where Bucky and Peter were sitting. “I am never doing that again.”

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of heights,” Bucky teased, arms folded over his chest. He looked anxious, though not obviously; it was all in the line of his shoulders, the tension in his muscles in places that he wasn’t even aware of. Peter was worse, biting all his nails down to the bit. 

“Not at all. It’s just a rather…claustrophobic disguise. But, all went well?”

“Just about. A few people are still sceptical but most people bought it; no one particularly cares to look into it but the fanatics.”

“A majority is enough.”

“I didn’t exactly sell it well, though,” Peter mumbled. 

“One day, I could teach you to lie, if you’d like.” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I know, I know,” he added, “this team is about honesty. But as you’ve seen, lying can be very useful.”

Bucky looked at Peter. “It’s your call.”

“I’d…like that.”

A moment passed before Loki asked. “And Wanda? Is she…okay?”

“Terrified. No one has connected her to Sokovia yet but they might. Tony’s working to get rid of any footage there was but all it takes is one Sokovian to rat her out and she’s done.”

“We will wait then.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s all we can do.” He sighed, leaning his head in his hand like the weight of this all was finally bearing down on him. “I think maybe we should disband the team.”

“WHAT?!” Peter and Loki shouted.

“It’s…not good for any of us anymore. It’s just making everything worse. Peter, you know enough by now to do well. Loki, you’re helping the Avengers, you can make your amends. Wanda’s not going to be okay for a long time and MJ isn’t even allowed to come anymore.”

“We’ll fix this,” Peter demanded. 

“You can’t just give up,” Loki said. “That’s…I can’t just be an Avenger. They will never forgive me. They barely tolerate me. This group is the first to accept me as I am, even if you expect change. No one else will even give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“And I haven’t gotten far in training at all! You said you’d start teaching me acrobatics! And we’ll fix the Wanda problem, we always find a way. And I can get MJ back. I’ll talk to Angela-“

“It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not!” Peter practically screeched. “It’s not. This team is everything to me and I know it’s everything to you! We’re not going to give it up because we’re scared! That’s not what teams do!”

Bucky stared at him, blinking blankly. Terror had grabbed hold of him, he knew, but he hadn’t quite realised how badly. “You’re right. Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just-“

“You feel guilty,” Loki interrupted. “That’s normal.” 

“You were the one that taught us that if we feel guilty, the best thing we can do is make up for it with future actions. That...that isn’t making up for it.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered.

“So we’re going to fix this,” Peter said. “We all are.”

Bucky nodded, heaving in a breath. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll fix it.”

They at least had to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all my new readers! A few of you have popped up recently and I couldn't be more grateful :) I will reiterate now that all things are welcome in the comment section, nice or not, I love to hear from you!
> 
> Also, extras are to come soon for those of you who are interested so look out for them soon!


	13. Family III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favourite chapter of all time but a longer treat for all you readers out there. Honestly, who said the 13 was an unlucky number?

The Saturday session was unanimously decided to be a no-show. Not really by any sort of communication, just an understanding built up over the last year of what everyone’s preferences would be. It had been good, in the end, allowing time for their at least partially successful interview. Yet it only seemed to make Wednesday all the worse when only three of them showed. 

Bucky, Loki and Peter sat awkwardly in the conference room, different degrees of anxiety filling the room with a clogging feeling of  _ wrong _ . Bucky had no idea where Wanda had gone, only that he’d last seen her in the morning, where she’d said she was going to the shops and had yet to return to the apartment. He’d wanted to chase after her but she was eighteen now; he couldn’t be her parent. 

MJ, presumably, was still not allowed out of the house.

“Has she been at school?” Wanda hadn’t gone back yet, though she planned to. Their interview gave her a shot, even if it meant her classmates staring at her. She would rather that than drop out altogether. School was the most important thing to her; she couldn’t just let it go. 

Not until someone released footage of Sokovia. So far, none had been found but there had been whispers spreading across the internet of sightings that looked oddly similar. Nothing concrete but working towards it. 

Even then, Bucky wasn’t sure she’d leave. Someone would have to force her. Sadly, that wasn’t outside the realms of possibility.

MJ, on the other hand, well, Bucky had no idea. 

“She came in on Friday,” Peter murmured, foot bouncing wildly. It made Bucky twitch but he was too far gone himself to stop it. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything other than this. He’d just maybe hoped, wildly, stupidly, that things would fix themselves.

He was an idiot.

“She okay?”

“Not really. Her mum doesn’t want her talking to me. She did anyway but it was…tense.” 

“Ah.” A pause. “You okay?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m coping. I’m the only one who really got out of this okay so…” he shrugged again, his heart clearly not in it. It seemed wrong on him somehow. Peter was bubbly, even when anxious, to see him just…give up felt alien. It didn’t help that he was wearing another ridiculous t-shirt stating, ‘You know what gets on my nerves? Myelin’. Especially when the print was in a garish purple, curved around a diagram of a nerve cell. The dichotomy was all wrong.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be okay. This has been a shit week.”

“I just…can I rant at you for a bit?”

“Always.”

“Okay, so, like, well…okay, this week has been pretty bad. Between the whole revealing I’m Spiderman thing and the Wanda-MJ tension-“

“Tension?”

“Okay, like, basically, they’re not doing so good. They’re still friends, obviously, but the whole Angela seeming to prefer Wanda has really got to MJ and Wanda seems completely oblivious to it which only makes MJ more annoyed and it's created this really awkward tension between them. My bet is that it’s only been made  _ worse _ now-“

“Yeah, Wanda’s moved in with me and Steve.” So there was more to this than just what was on the surface.

“Oh. Yeah, I can imagine that got worse with the whole grounding thing. But it’s just been really awkward. MJ has kind of had to hang out with Ned because Wanda doesn’t know him as much but they’re not that close either so it’s just been…weird.”

“That’s a lot. What about you, though?”

“I mean, between being stuck in the middle of that, people at school have started to talk. A lot. Most of them believe I’m not Spiderman but they keep calling me it anyway and my anxiety is at like eleven because I don’t know who actually knows and who doesn’t. Like, I’m sure  _ no one _ actually knows but it’s just…the thought is there, you know?” Yeah, Bucky knew, he knew all too well. “It’s just been kinda bad, really.” 

Even now, Peter couldn’t work in absolutes. Like Steve, he was a martyr; his pain mattered less than others. If his week had been shit, it was just ‘kinda bad’. It was progress, Bucky thought, but going from complete repression to desperate mitigation wasn’t exactly the progress he’d wanted to see.

“Sorry, I’m just rambling. This all probably sounds nonsensical-“

“It sounds pretty sensical to me,” Bucky interrupted. “You’re allowed to talk, ramble, rant, whatever you want. You know that.” Peter just shrugged, seemingly now mute. 

In the following silence, Loki finally put in his piece. “I’m sorry,” he said nonsensically. 

“For what?”

“All of this.”

Bucky’s head snapped to him. “Did  _ you _ do this? Did you-“

“No! I would never. I just…”

Bucky stared at him, comprehension dawning as Loki fumbled for words. “You’re not to blame for this,” Bucky assured. He knew the feeling; the one where you thought everything you touched would be ruined. He’d had it with Steve, at first, as if a brush of their hands was enough to drag Steve into his hellish pit of nothingness (or rather, long periods of nothingness followed by short bursts of  _ everything _ ).

Of course, it wasn’t. Even if Bucky tried, Steve’s superpower was being the goddamn light. 

“Since I’ve joined-“

“ _ You have done nothing _ . Seriously. I know you have this stupid thought in your head but this is not on you. In fact, you’ve pretty much mitigated the entire disaster by not being in that photo-“

“I could have hidden everyone.”

Bucky talked straight over him; “so really you have nothing to blame yourself for. I’m the one who has to answer for this. Okay?”

Loki swallowed thickly but slowly, deferentially, he nodded.

“I know you probably don’t believe me but seriously, just keep it in mind. Okay?” Again, a little more confidently this time, Loki nodded. “Great. Now, I’ve got something that will take your minds off this for a bit.” As well as his own but now wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not after Saturday. He was the head of this team; he needed to act like it. 

Bucky turned his attention fully to the two people opposite him. “You know I said I had some plans,” he said to Loki.

“Yes. You wanted to further your education. And something more…secret.”

“Right. Still working that second one out. But, well, the first. We started but life got in the way and all that but I wanted to pick it back up and really, you two are probably the best to do that with. I need to pass the SAT II test to get into college. Or a GED, possibly. Honestly, it’s not that clear. But that’s what I found on Google.”

“What are you looking to study?” Loki asked. 

“Aerospace engineering. But you need really good grades. Same for mechanical engineering. If not, I might try for civil engineering. But that’s not entirely easier to get into either.”

“Where are you gonna go?” Peter asked, perking up, looking genuinely excited. It wasn’t a surprise; they had really let go of the education side of things here, even though they’d all - Peter especially - loved it. Even their fighting sessions had moved on from the basics like how to form a fist (how Peter hadn’t broken his thumb before Bucky met him, he didn’t know) and how to defend yourself to general combat with no clear direction. Again, Bucky would just have to do better. 

College training, languages, proper fighting techniques; it all needed to come back. 

(There was so goddamn much he needed -  _ wanted _ \- to bring back. But maybe that was just nostalgia’s poison again). 

“I want to stay in New York. Or at least be near still. I don’t want to move out of the apartment and I  _ do not _ want to be moving into student accommodation, that’s for sure. When I looked it up…well NYU’s engineering department is right in the centre of Brooklyn but, well, dunno if I’m that smart.”

“You’re hella smart!” Peter declared, ever the optimist. “And you have as much time as you need to get in.” It was true. Unlike the students of today, Bucky could spend the next five years training to get in and wouldn’t make a massive difference to him. For the first time in his life, time wasn’t racing away from him (and, for once, he wasn’t running away from time in turn). 

“Yeah. I guess so. And you can do mechanical engineering and minor in aerospace engineering which sounds like it could be cool. I don’t really know what I want to do. Really, after I graduated, I wouldn’t have that many options, being who I am, but Stark would probably bring me on board. It’d be nice to keep up with him.”

Peter perked up. “I can help! I mean, I don’t understand  _ everything _ he’s saying but I can definitely keep up. Maybe you should start working with him now!” Peter looked so excited that Bucky could barely stand to let him down but, well, Stark and Bucky still didn’t have the best relationship, even if it had made wild progress from its start point.

“Maybe one day. We’ll see.”

“I can help with aerospace engineering,” Loki inputted. “Asgardians are very much acclimatised to space travel. If anything, I can get you ahead of your peers.”

“That…that would be great, actually.” Who was he to say no to the  _ literal alien _ who was offering to teach him about space? 

“I’ll get you as many of my textbooks as I can. Oh, and I can send you some links to some great online resources.”

“I think it is time I visited my new land,” Loki added. “My mother will be pleased to see me. There, I will get some of our best mechanics to bring me their basic materials. Asgardians have lost many physical objects but we have not lost our minds.”

“You don’t have to-“

“This gives me a reason to see my family again. If anything, you are giving me a gift.”

“I- thank you. Really. Both of you.”

“It is no problem.”

“It really isn’t!” Peter added. “It’ll be fun. Like the old times.” And if he said that a little too wistfully, Bucky wasn’t going to comment.

~*~

On Saturday, MJ and Wanda are still conspicuously missing. Bucky hadn’t seen Wanda all day, yet again, and wasn’t about to chase her down; especially not in her current state. In fact, since she’d moved in, he’d barely seen her. He’d heard her in her room when she moved around but that was about it. He put a mental note aside to talk to her soon. For now, he just had to go with what he’d been given. 

They were all up in the conference room again. Loki would leave tomorrow to go to Asgard and Peter would be back to school on Monday but for now, they were in a little bubble outside of time, the clock stretching out its hours until each second felt like days, the tension building up in their muscles until they were all paralytically still, ready to pounce. 

“Okay, this is stupid,” Bucky finally announced, standing up. “We’re going downstairs. It’s time to get to the real stuff.”

“The real stuff?” Peter asked. 

“What we normally do, even what you do out there,” Bucky said, pointing out the window, “that’s nothing. We’re going to do proper sparring, no holding back. It's time we take this a step further.” And release this fucking…frustration. 

Loki and Peter followed Bucky obediently down the elevator and into the gym. Yet again, Stark had changed it, although it was usually in the details, not the general. The treadmills had disappeared and the sparring mats extended, like Stark knew exactly what they were now using this room for. The rafters had been extended into a complex maze, fitted with obstacles and everything. And an interesting challenge for Peter and one he direly needed. He couldn’t keep using the rafters as a safe spot, that’s not how real life worked. 

The rest of the room seemed to have been pushed outwards too, almost doubling the size of the sparring mats. At Bucky’s confused look, Loki clarified, “Stark wanted to test his suit against me.”

“Who won?” Bucky asked, curious. 

“I did.” Loki looked a little too pleased with himself but, well, Stark could get under anyone’s skin and it was undeniable that sweeping the floor with him was a pleasant experience. Not that Bucky was entirely capable of doing so, not without breaking the suit. He’d probably win a real fight but sparring? He was outmatched.

“Not bad. Okay, go get changed.” Peter was the first to go, Bucky setting up the timer on the side of the room to give them five-minute intervals to fight. Three each, allowing them time to get used to each other’s style and learn to outmanoeuvre them. Breaks in the middle, probably, to recoup. Didn’t want it to be unfair. 

When he turned around, Loki was still there, staring into the distance. “Are you okay?”

Loki blinked. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, there is plenty to think about.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, “there is. Oh, before you go, though, I just wanted to check. I said no holding back but Peter’s still a kid, you know. Both of us need to be careful. He’s strong, stronger than me for sure, but he’s not trained. And I think we both know strength doesn’t make up for a lack of training.”

“Of course, I would never wish to harm him.”

“Good, then we’re in agreement. You coming?” Together, they walked to the changing rooms, all of them changing into something more suitable before joining each other on the mats. 

“Peter, you’re up against me first, okay? Two practice matches, five-minute countdown. Got it?”

Peter looked raring to go, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m ready.”

“Okay then. Loki, can you set the timer?”

“Certainly.”

Bucky took a few steps back, balancing himself so his centre of gravity was spread out, fists up to protect his face. He settled into the blankness of a real fight easily - too easily - but it felt comfortable, like an old coat he’d forgotten to enjoy. His history wasn’t one he missed but it had still been his life, he’d lived it, and he couldn’t throw it away just like that. Things like this, they were habitual and you could always find comfort in habits. 

Peter wasn’t nearly as disciplined but he’d clearly learnt. He had his feet planted steadily on the floor, no doubt using his abilities to keep him planted for as long as needed, his fists raised, although they were already lazily drooping to protect his stomach not his face. It wasn’t a bad place to be but it left enough time for-

Bucky threw himself forward, his palm jabbing forward to Peter’s face, no time to react. He barely used his whole strength but it still snapped Peter’s head back, enough to shock him and put him in a daze, giving Bucky the opportunity to aim at his legs and bring him down to the floor. 

Peter was clever, though, and strong. Once he was down, he wasn’t going to let that be the end of it. As per their practice, he escaped Bucky’s hold and jumped back to his feet, using Bucky’s lower stance to his advantage and sending an elbow at his head.

Bucky fell to the ground but rolled quick enough to avoid another kick, his training and stubborn determination the only things giving him the momentum to get back to his feet without getting caught again. 

For a few seconds, they circled each other. Bucky looked for gaps in Peter’s defence. Peter was good but he was also still a kid, he had a short attention span and if Bucky just waited long enough, Peter would let his stance go and Bucky could-

He ran up and sent his knee into Peter’s diagram, though Bucky should have known that anything with a run-up would fail him. Peter’s spider-sense gave him an innate ability to see things coming and before Bucky could land the hit, Peter had caught Bucky’s leg and threw him backwards whilst he was off balance. 

Bucky brought him down with him.

This time, he used a new hold, rolling Peter over and putting him in a head hold. Within a few seconds, Peter knew it was over and patted the mats twice with an air of dejection.

“You did well,” Bucky complimented as they both got to their feet.

“We’ve never done that hold before.”

“Exactly. I can’t teach you everything. You gotta be able to improvise off the cuff. That’s just how the real world is.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter nodded frantically, regrouping himself. Already, both of them had started to sweat. No doubt, to normal eyes, their fight had been a whirlwind, the serum giving them twice the strength in half the time, but it was good to fight against someone of similar calibre. For what Peter had in strength, Bucky made up for in training. They were an equal match, even if Bucky still had plenty he could teach Peter.

One day, Peter will have far surpassed him. Bucky didn’t find himself caring. In fact, there was a spark of pride (hidden behind the worry) that Peter would likely become a paradigm of superheroes. He was a good kid with a good heart.

He wasn’t like Bucky. There wasn’t that darkness inside him, festering, growing (dying, Steve would say anyway, only to follow up with a slightly exhausted taunt about Bucky’s dramatics).

Peter had his troubles but they weren’t darkness, only another battle to overcome.

“You want a break or straight back in?”

Bucky could just  _ tell _ Peter wanted to make an old man joke in retaliation but that ingrained politeness in him just held him back. Just.

“Straight back in. I want to try something.”

“Ominous. Loki, reset the timer.” With a silent nod, Loki reset it, nodding to them casually when he pressed go.

Bucky went on the defence this time; he’d taught Peter a lot less about attacking and it was an experiment to see what he went with straight away. As Bucky suspected, it was determinedly not the optimal option. 

He swung widely, giving Bucky ample time to block his hit, spinning and sending his elbow into Peter’s stomach. Now facing the other way, he was faced with a dilemma; to stay exposed but less vulnerable or to turn again. But Bucky was good and these kinds of decisions were now made in a split second, his brain like a computer as he spun around, using the momentum of the spin to kick Peter in the side and send him sprawling. 

Peter, although fazed, didn’t seem at all hurt as he sprang back up to his feet, a terribly familiar glint in his eyes: this kid was determined to win, no matter the cost. Bucky just grinned. Bring it on.

They went at each other like wild animals after that, Bucky giving up on holding back his strength when it was clear Peter could easily take the hits, as long as Bucky wasn’t out to kill. Peter was less cautious but Bucky could outmanoeuvre him so even if the few hits that landed hit  _ hard _ , Bucky remained predominantly uninjured.

They grappled for what felt like an eternity when Peter finally got his leg around Bucky’s, sending him towards the ground and-

The timer rang out. 

“No! That’s not fair! I was about to win.”

Bucky grinned. “Life ain’t fair, you just got to deal with that.”

Peter glared accusingly, looking awfully like a hamster. “You knew I was going to win.”

“Did I?” Peter huffed. “Okay, okay, maybe. But five-minute break first, then you can finally beat me.” Peter acquiesced easily enough; by now, they were both drenched in sweat, the smell of the room just on the cusp of being a little too awful to stand. As much as it had good ventilation, like every other gym, the build-up of human secretion left a lingering sense of… _ ugh _ .

Steve would argue that it was a good smell. Bucky would withhold the urge to hit him every time. He’d spent long enough around stenches, thank you very much, he’d settle now for the modern-day routine of showering every day and spritzing himself with over-priced colognes. 

He was allowed to, so sue him. 

Five minutes passed quickly enough. Loki was looking antsier and Bucky knew he’d have to go next, whether against him or Peter. Though it wasn’t looking in Bucky’s favour. Whilst his breaths were still being forcefully controlled, Peter looked almost entirely restored. He was still sweaty, as was usual, but he was already bouncing on the balls of his feet like he could go another ten rounds.

Bucky didn’t hold out hope for this match.

And he was right. He’d had plenty of time learning how to fight whilst delirious but that didn’t mean he hadn’t lost some of it. And anyway, the Winter Soldier was trained to kill not spar. Bucky could have killed Peter 10 times over but get him down and keep him down? That just wasn’t in the picture.

It took a mere minute and a half for Peter to get him on the ground, his smile pervasive. “Good job. That was impressive timing.”

“You were tired,” Peter acquiesced, ever unable to take a compliment. 

“Sure, you did that through no merit of your own,” he drawled, clambering to his feet. “Loki, you’re up next. Peter, you want a break or not.”

Peter shook his head rapidly, looking like an overeager puppy who had just been told ‘walkies’. Bucky just huffed a laugh and left them to it, taking the place on the bench next to the timer as he tried to regain his breath.

He wanted to be ready to fight Loki. 

And really, he needed to think up some strategies. 

For a moment, Bucky let himself dwell on how good an idea this was. His brain was already too caught up in other things to think of…that, and the exhaustion invading his body was a welcome respite from the near-constant tension that had been gripping him in its vice-like grip recently. 

“You two ready?” He shouted. A chorus of nods and he set the timer.

For a second, no one moved. Then Peter went for it. In a blur of movement, he shot a web at the wall, grabbing the string and tugging to give him extra momentum as he approached Loki, going in with both legs. A risky strategy but one that paid off if the other person was caught unawares. 

Unfortunately, it was almost impossible to catch Loki unawares. Whilst it was quick enough for it to land on Loki, it was slow enough that he caught Peter’s legs before he was pushed out of reach, dragging Peter in his direction so he crashed towards the ground in a way that he hadn’t expected. Now in a tangle of limbs, Peter simply lay there as Loki pinned his limbs down and called it a loss. 

“You’re good,” Peter complimented, though it could have as easily been a complaint. 

“You’re getting better.”

Peter drew back and shook out his limbs, bouncing from one foot to the other like he was suddenly a boxer. Bucky reset the timer. “You guys want to go again?”

“Yeah, now,” Peter called, moving his stance so it was wider, his centre of gravity lower.

“Go!”

Peter went on the defence, perfectly mimicking what Bucky had taught him. Loki was cautious to attack but knew he couldn’t stall forever, not if he wanted to win within the time limit. It would be Loki’s downfall. There were two likely outcomes here, either Loki won or he ran out of time, Peter only had to hold him off long enough. For Peter to win would be an act of a miracle but it wouldn’t be impossible to escape Loki’s relentless attacks.

So he did.

Loki lunged and weaved and punched and elbowed. He used every limb in his body like it was a weapon; a strange concoction of martial arts and something decidedly alien. Bucky watched, mesmerised, as their movements blurred, just a flurry of movement with no clear definition.

There was a minute left.

Peter looked genuinely worn out, his breath now ragged, sweat dripping down his hairline in violent streams. Loki was much more put together, barely out of breath, although definitely challenged. His eyebrows were furrowed, focused intently on Peter, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

A pause, just for a moment. 

Then Loki came back with a vengeance and even Peter couldn’t keep up. Loki had magic on his side, as well as training, and on top of that, he easily rivalled Peter in strength. Peter was down, again, although with only five seconds to spare.

“Goddamit,” he groaned, lying prostrate on the ground as Loki straddled him, holding him down. Quickly, Loki moved, offering a hand as Peter rolled over. Peter took it reluctantly and dragged himself to his feet, every movement languid and tired. 

“I’m out. That…you’re strong,” he mumbled, looking a little light-headed as he woozily made his way to where Bucky was. 

“You alright, Pete. Pete? You alright?”

“‘M fine.”

“Sure. Just…” Bucky rushed to the water-cooler and brought back a cup of ice-cold water. That would probably do the trick.

Loki, still on the mats, looked genuinely apologetic, worry edged into his features. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Nah, Peter pushed himself past his limits. It was good for him. He just needs to rest for a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain of it. Now, give me five minutes. I want to be ready for this.” At the glare of  _ something _ in Bucky’s eyes, Loki grinned.

This was going to be fun.

Time passed all too quickly from there. Bucky felt like he’d barely begun formulating his strategy before Loki was standing above him, an irritating smile on his face. “Are you ready?”

Bucky just nodded silently, his mind still running through scenarios like he was flipping through pages of a book, skimming each one for a line or just a word that could help him. 

He didn’t have much but he had enough; five minutes, that was all it had to be. And with Loki, he didn’t have to worry about his hits hurting either.

“Peter, timer?” Bucky said as Peter shuffled along the bench to hover his finger over the button. They got into position. Twelve seconds passed. “Go!”

Bucky didn’t move; instead, he loosened his posture, rolling his shoulders back a few times. Loki copied him, even going as far as to put one hand in his pocket. Bucky raised an eyebrow. Loki untucked his hand and folded his arms, raising an eyebrow in return.

Perfect.

Bucky launched himself at Loki but instead of diving at him, he went around him, using Loki’s shoulder to lever himself around and grab his arms by the elbows from behind, almost entirely restricting his movements. It was the exact wrong move to do if someone had their arms crossed but Loki had uncrossed them to catch his hits, leaving them vulnerable to attack.

His shoddily put together plan was working (that was to say the plan where he did every stupid move because that was the one thing Loki  _ wouldn’t expect _ ). Loki knew Bucky’s skill, knew he was good - possibly even brilliant - at his trade. And Loki knew exactly how to measure up an opponent. Bucky could never hope to outwit him, but he could certainly do the opposite. 

Loki could easily break his hold but it left him open. So instead of going for his legs like Bucky should have, he went for the neck, wrapping his arm around him to put him in a choke-hold, one that would hold anyone else, especially with the metal arm, but was barely a problem for Loki. 

Bucky let Loki throw him backwards and purposefully let his hold go, rolling away as Loki landed on the floor, both of them now side-by-side. Bucky desperately scrambled to pin Loki but he was too slow, Loki rolled them over, straddling Bucky. 

He flailed for as long as he could get away with, struggling against the hold, keeping a countdown in his head.

Then he kneed him in the crotch. Dirty moves always worked.

Even if Loki didn’t let him go, he curled in on himself enough to loosen his hold, allowing Bucky to get his metal arm free and roll them over again. And instead of pinning him, he let him go and used the time to stand. 

“You’re very clever,” Loki commented as they circled each other, something like genuine surprise on his face. “That almost worked.”

“It did work,” Bucky revealed, “we don’t have long left now.” 

Bucky didn’t leave time between his words and his throws, throwing himself forward, and jabbing Loki’s sternum with his metal arm without showing it was coming, just quick hits - martial arts moves, learnt at a time he couldn’t even remember. Loki hit him more times than Bucky hit him but they were both resistant and Bucky had a metal arm to block hits like a shield. 

Loki knew the timer was almost up now and went in for the kill, his eyes blazing in excitement. Bucky was too, his breaths were coming hard and his heart was beating fast and the adrenaline made him feel alive.

For the first time, he almost felt like the superhero Steve kept saying he was. 

Block, block, duck, punch, block, spin. It was a simple fight, made up of brute strength, but both were sweating now, the effort straining. Although Loki probably still had the faculties to come up with a plan, Bucky did not. And anyway, Loki didn’t exactly have time to implement them.

They kept going, the rhythm becoming a dance, both of them throwing their entire weight behind punches followed by hundreds of smaller jabs that were, by now, entirely expected and easily taken.

“Time’s up!” Peter called, though the words were almost swallowed by his wonder. “That was… _ wow _ .”

“That was very impressive,” Loki said, smiling gently. “You are a mighty warrior.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have lasted any longer than that but I’m glad I could hold my way through it.”

“Again?”

“Nope. I think that’s me done for a  _ year _ .” And now that they’d really paused for a breather, Bucky’s body seemed to wake up again. His body  _ hurt _ a _ lot _ . He didn’t mind; in fact, he relished in the slight burning sensation, knowing that he could use his body to its limits. There was just something…self-improving in it, like the ache in his muscles showed that he cared about himself, that was looking after himself.

Forget it, it was stupid. His head rarely made sense. 

“I need a shower,” Bucky said, swiping a sweaty hand through his equally sweaty hair. “But you still want to go upstairs after this?” 

“Yes,” Loki said, in time with Peter’s more enthusiastic “of course.” They walked to the changing rooms together, Peter chattering inanely to Loki behind him as he led the group. It was good, seeing this energy again. His plan had worked, then; although they certainly hadn’t forgotten about the two empty spaces, it felt a little less painful every time it crossed his mind.

He’d get them back. He would. He had to.

~*~

Bucky, somehow, was the first up to the conference room, followed shortly by Loki. Peter trailed up 10 minutes after, looking slightly ashamed, but Bucky wasn’t going to mention it, not this time. Bucky knew Peter had…issues with his body. Not bad ones by any means but there was no point comparing yourself to a genetically-enhanced body (that took exactly nothing to upkeep) and an alien god so…

(If you asked MJ, she would say that Peter was just being an idiot. He had as much of a six-pack as any other superhero, for god's sake, but just because he was  _ small _ …but MJ wasn’t there to ask.)

“What’s that?” He asked as he walked into the room, eyes on the whiteboard where Bucky had simply written ‘lesson time’ in ugly block capitals.

“We haven’t been keeping up with your Russian now, have we? You remember any of it.”

“A little,” Peter said, in Russian, because he was that kind of kid. Bucky just smiled; god, his team was great. 

“Loki, you know Russian?”

“I know all languages. Allspeak doesn’t differentiate.”

“Huh. Handy. Always wondered why aliens could speak seemingly perfect English. Guess you’re not much help teaching languages, though.”

“We did have to learn languages but only ones that don’t so easily translate into Asgardian. For example, the Flora Colossus speak only through intonation and that does not particularly translate well so we learn that. Or rather, it is an elective.”

“You had school?”

“We had a private tutor, whom we could choose what to learn with.”

“Huh, nice. So being in the royal family wasn’t all bad.”

Loki shrugged. “I preferred learning alone.” There was something on his face that made Bucky stop his questioning. 

He turned. “Now, Peter,” Bucky demanded in Russian, “you ready?”

“Sort of,” Peter mumbled in Russian. Oh, Bucky was probably going to have too much fun with this.

~*~

“You speak too quickly!” Peter complained, though he dutifully said it in Russian, as Bucky had ordered (Russian and only Russian, even Loki).

“You understand too slowly,” Bucky teased in response. Loki just watched them, looking a little like a bored father who had given up on chastising his children three hours ago. Maybe it wasn’t that far off the mark. 

“Please, I beg, slow down.”

“Nope. Now, tell me about your day.”

“It was fine. I went to the gym. I fought-“

“So boring! Say what you would say in English and then in Russian.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t try. You do the impossible every day.”

“What? You’re speaking too quickly again!”

“You do spider stuff. That’s impossible. Now you can do this.” 

“Fine. I went to the gym today which was cool. I got to fight both of you and it was really fun. Then I came here to speak Russian which was really, really not fun. And that’s been my day.”

“Surely there’s more than that?”

“Nope.”

“Then you’re finally free,” Bucky declared in English, a scary smile on his face. Slowly, it softened. “You did great. Really, I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well, say that to my anxiety levels right now.” Though Peter was smiling too, even his breath was coming oddly heavy. 

Bucky frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was actually making you panic.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Things are setting me off easily these days. Seriously, it’s fine.”

“It doesn’t seem fine.” Bucky’s frown didn’t dissipate, in fact, it probably deepened as Peter fidgeted like he was trying to hide from Bucky’s gaze.

“It’s just been a lot with everything that’s going on. It will be fine as soon as we figure this all out.”

Bucky sighed, the fear returning back to base-line worry (for all of them, really). “Yeah. Soon, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.”

When the silence that followed finally went on too long, Loki stood up. “I have something for you,” he said, looking at Peter.

“Um, okay?” Peter looked a little frantically at Bucky but he just shrugged. How the hell would he know what was going on? 

They waited awkwardly for a few minutes as Loki disappeared, silence perpetuating until it was just too awkward to break it again. Loki returned promptly enough, anyway, a bundle in his arms. “Your clothes,” he announced, “to fix that.” He was pointing at Peter's t-shirt, which today wasn’t even that bad, just a black t-shirt with ‘I’m a nerd’ written on it; not a pun in sight. 

“Wait, really?” Everything in Peter’s voice said ‘I genuinely thought you were joking’. Nevertheless, he took the neatly folded pile and placed it carefully in front of him, picking up each item with gentle fingers, holding it like it would break apart if he pulled too hard. 

Bucky understood the feeling.

“These are…”  _ Amazing _ , Bucky heard. And it was true. Loki was clever. Despite being clearly up-brand, they were distinctly Peter’s style, nothing else. There was a beautifully cut, light blue denim-jacket that was soft to the touch where it should have been stiff. A few pairs of jeans that didn’t have holes in them but were still artfully tousled or bunched or threaded. The t-shirts were long, soft and simple but still the best material you’d ever known. Even the hoodie he’d bought screamed comfort whilst still retaining a surprising amount of style with its cream colour, a small coloured band wrapping around the chest-line. 

“Fucking hell, now I feel like I need new clothes,” Bucky said, flesh fingers slipping over the hoodie's sleeves, wondering if they were made of goddamn silk.

“I would be happy to buy you some things as well.”

“Nope. At some point, we’re going shopping and you’re going to tell me where the hell you’re getting all this. Because honestly, I need it.” Imagine: stylish, warm, hoodies that he could hide his hands in the sleeves of and not feel like a complete slob because it was  _ designer _ . 

“I would be happy to.”

Peter finally put the clothes away, though Bucky was pretty sure he still had the hoodie in his lap, fingers dug into the material. It wasn’t surprising. Bucky was pretty sure Peter had enhanced senses, including touch. He wasn’t particularly sure because, honestly, did that mean Peter felt more pain? If so, that would  _ suck _ . He should really ask about that one of these days.

“Thanks, Loki. This was really nice of you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” A little too much on the sincerity front there but at least Loki was trying, even if it looked a little fake.

“Um, okay, so…well, I brought my textbooks if you wanted to look at them. Oh! And I also found this really amazing website that-“ Peter continued to talk, Bucky losing at least half of what he was saying but not daring to interrupt. His heart warmed at the effort; clearly, Peter hadn’t half-arsed this. He’d done research. He even managed to explain to Bucky how the home-schooling system actually worked for college despite knowing absolutely nothing about it himself. 

Then there was Loki, who came out with some fancy looking scrolls - written, he later found, by Loki himself in the last few days - and started explaining some basic Asgardian concepts that had Peter absolutely astounded (Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t really remember the basics of  _ Earth _ concepts so it didn’t feel like much of a revelation but the excitement was infectious nonetheless). More surprising was Loki’s ability as a teacher. Somehow, it was natural to him. Despite his grouchiness, he seemed to have patience in spades for when they didn’t understand something.

It shouldn’t have taken Bucky aback; no one could complete Loki’s plans without a lot of patience but there was something about Loki’s aura - and general grumpiness - that felt like it wouldn’t fit hand in hand with teaching. Then again, pot meet kettle.

Honestly, this whole situation felt like the eye of the storm but Bucky didn’t care. The reprieve was welcome.

Now he just had to get through the rest of it.

~*~

Bucky scanned the document one more time, scribbling notes in his small, moleskin notebook on the bed. The writing was jolty (inevitably, really, since he hadn’t deigned to do this at a desk) but legible, as he scribbled down the concepts. 

The door squawked open. “Buck, are you-“ Steve stopped, “what’s that?”

“Oh, I’m going to go to college.”

Steve’s grin was wide and infectious. “You’re finally doing it?”

“Uh-huh. Peter taught me the whole home-schooling system and him and Loki are both teaching me so I can get in. Though that’s mostly on math and science. But you know what’s hilarious, I get to do US History and guess how much of that is on WWII?  _ A lot of it _ . So that’s gonna be fun.” That time in his life was still vague, a little out of his reach; it didn’t hit him as hard; it was easier to laugh about it.

“Sounds like you’re prepared.”

“I’m gonna do it. I really am. I want to.”

Steve walked up to the bed, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you. For all of this.” When Bucky went to speak, Steve talked right over him. “I know the last week has been hard, really hard. But what you’ve done here, it’s amazing. It is.” Wow, that therapist was really doing her job. 

“Wanda seems to think otherwise.”

“Then we’ll talk to her. Or you can talk to her. Whatever you think’s best. But no matter what Angela says, you gave those kids a chance. And now you’re giving yourself a chance. That’s worth more than anything.”

“I love you,” Bucky blurted, a little stupidly.

“I love you too,” Steve said, sincerity bleeding from every pore. “Oh, and guess what, we still haven’t opened your birthday presents.” Bucky just smiled.

The watch was more beautiful than anything he’d ever owned. The Terminator socks, though, were much less appreciated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect to have to do research on college applications for home-schooled students in my life yet here we are. I have never had to look at US colleges either but I’ve now done that too. As well as all their courses. It’s been a crazy ride XD I will have inevitably got something wrong though so please point it out if you see anything!


	14. Intermission V: Worthiness (and what comes with it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most useless intermission. It literally serves no purpose but to amuse me. It's short, though. We'll be back to all the angsty plot soon enough!

Loki would be leaving this evening for Asgard, the flutter in his heart a little too hopeful to focus on. At the very least, he could admit that he was excited to see his mother, whose face he had not seen in months. They did FaceTime every now and then (such interesting technology) but it was rare and they were both very clear on the fact that it simply could not be the same as seeing each other face to face.

He’d already packed; merely a small suitcase. The rest of his items he could transport as necessary, even if it took a bit of energy. He had mastered the art a long time ago but he still got so rudely reminded that no matter his training, his magic stores were not infinite and with the number of spells he usually had going on in the background, sometimes simple tasks were a little too much. 

He was feeling it now, though this time much more physical than mental. It was a surprise, to say the least; yesterday’s sparring was gentle in his books but he still had a pleasant ache in his legs and arms and he still felt a little tired as he strode through his day. It was unfamiliar but welcome, if a little disconcerting. 

Overall, the day was proving to be rather mundane. 

It was around midday that he made his way to Thor’s room to collect the very specific book his brother had asked to be transported. No doubt it would take him an age to find; Thor had a habit of placing books in entirely inconvenient locations. He rarely opened them, either, this one he had simply read to impress his current love affair, another human girl who looked disconcertingly like Jane (a rebound if there ever was one). 

He was already despairing by the time he’d rounded the corner to Thor’s door, surprised to see it already cracked open, just enough for a thin strip of light to spill out into the hallway. Curious, Loki peeked through the gap, not yet pushing the door. 

His eyebrows jumped immediately when he saw the Captain in there, wringing his hands like he was debating something. Who then, completely out of the blue, reached down and grabbed Mjolnir (the new one, forged by the Asgardian people and imbued with powers by his mother, a beautiful legacy of their race on the other side of devastating millennia of war that had ended in a final bang. To complement it was the new Stormbreaker, made by the dwarves who had crafted the original Mjolnir, which Thor kept with him in the New Asgard). 

The new Mjolnir, like the old one, had the exact same limitations of the old one. Even if Odin had been a maniac at his height and an arrogant arse at his end, he did have a fair interpretation of worthiness in Mjolnir; they hadn’t deemed to change it.

Which meant goddamn Steve Rogers was  _ worthy _ .

Loki wasn’t. He hadn’t progressed enough to hide the bitterness on his face (he didn’t truly believe it would ever quite go) but it was still masked by his shock.  _ Steve Rogers was worthy _ . 

He had to talk to Bucky.

He did have enough self-awareness to know that a truly decent person probably would talk to Steve first before snitching on him to his boyfriend but Loki had long since moved past that. He wasn’t a great human being but he was doing okay so he was going to talk to Bucky and ask if he knew in a way that  _ didn’t _ immediately insinuate Steve’s worthiness. 

There, progress.

Steve and Bucky were both in the Tower today; though Steve supposedly to have more meetings about Thanos that Loki was no longer privy to. Bucky just tended to hang around when Steve was in, though not always (especially since he got Alpine for company).

“JARVIS? Where’s Bucky.”

No answer. 

For fuck’s sake.

“JARVIS, please.”

“He is in your usual conference room,” JARVIS said haughtily, if entirely dismissive. Loki just had to keep the image of Stark on the floor in his mind;  _ he’d _ won that fight. No more defenestration, thank you very much. (Was it deserved, probably, but didn’t mean he had to enjoy it). 

Odd about Bucky, though. The conference room was predominantly just for their meetings; otherwise, it was pretty useless. Though it wasn’t so much a surprise when he walked in the room. Piles of books were on every inch of the desk, Bucky in the midst of them, scribbling something frantically in his notebook as he flipped the page of the textbook.

“There’s no rush,” Loki said, surprised to see Bucky genuinely jump. Had he really been that lost in his work?

“Shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You’re lucky you don’t have a knife in you.”

“I would have dodged it,” Loki said truthfully, shrugging. 

“Fair point. What are you doing here?”

“I was just bored, thought I’d come to see you.” Bucky hummed, easily catching onto the lie; he didn’t comment on it, though. 

“There really is no rush in all of this,” Loki repeated. 

“There’s just so much to learn. To get through.”

“And you will get through it. Frantically getting through it all won’t teach you anything.”

“You live for millennia, of course you could go slow. I just…I don’t have time to learn it all.”

“There is no use in knowing a small amount of everything rather than a lot about one thing. Think, don’t just read. And reading it all really won’t help.”

Bucky slumped back with a heavy breath. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just…I don’t know. I kinda want to do it all before I slump again, you know? It feels like a ticking clock before I spiral again.”

“Even if you do, you’ll have time on the other side. You really aren’t under pressure to go soon.”

“I’d like to sign up for September, though.”

“This September, next September, we both know it makes little difference.”

Bucky sighed. “I know, I know. Now, enough about all of this. Are you going to tell me the real reason you came?”

“I…I saw Steve in Thor’s room,” Loki said cryptically. 

“Oh god, is this about Mjolnir?”

Loki was genuinely taken aback. “You know?”

“Of course I know. Steve’s an idiot. He doesn’t know I know, admittedly.” Bucky perked up. “Please say he was posing with it again.”

“No,” Loki said, a little flustered, “he looked nervous.”

Bucky barked a sharp laugh. “Of course. I found him once in Thor’s bathroom, posing like some sort of cheap cartoon character; he had the most  _ ridiculous _ pout. JARVIS had led me there. I just never mentioned it. Thought it would be good to bring up as blackmail material later.”

“And people say  _ I’m _ the evil one,” Loki joked.

Bucky laughed again and Loki was surprised by how much it pleased him. Not just that he could make someone else laugh but that it was Bucky. He deserved it, he really did. 


	15. Intermission VI: Asgard (and the love of family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uni has thrown me under the metaphorical bus. Updates are probably going to be far and few between until the next holiday. Sorry my dudes, this is the first time this has happened this badly. I wrote 10,000 words under my aim last month which is…yay. But I’m still working on this!

When Loki stepped off the plane, he was surprised by the beauty of the country. Norway, a beautiful mix of old cities and long stretches of green, was a place fitting of his (well, his mother’s) new land. Yet it didn’t make seeing New Asgard any more pleasant. As much as the Asgardians had clearly tried, it could never be the old land. Instead, it was made of old-fashioned huts and small brick houses. Human labour was seen at every angle, lacking the familiar technology and faced with these new, human technologies that seemed both primitive and a thousand years ahead.

It was new and it was difficult, but it was clear to see that it was starting to thrive. As Loki walked down the streets, concealed as ever, he saw people laughing and drinking, no different to a usual day on the streets, even if they now wore a strange combination of Midgardian and Asgardian garb and drank and ate the things they now found on this planet. 

Trade agreements were still being set up; Norway had been kind enough to allow them a piece of their land, although they had to act under Norwegian law, even if they acted as a devolved government. It wasn’t perfect but it was getting there and it allowed them some modicum of freedom whilst also giving them the resources to start from scratch.

They had lost their means of being, their means of production. Everything. They had only the ship they had landed in and the minds they were born with. But it hadn’t stopped them. Loki wondered what would. 

He didn’t turn towards the castle at first, instead, wandering towards the cliffs: such a strange contrast to Asgard’s geography yet utterly, undeniably beautiful. Waves crashed on the shores, the still cold weather stirring the ocean into messy tides. The grass was long out here, tickling at his bare ankles, though he unsuspectingly revelled in it, even if he would be sad at the grass stains on the end of his trousers at the end of the day.

He’d spent a lot on this outfit, he thought with a frown.

Eventually, he could stare no longer. He was glad for the detour, though; the serene quiet always gave him time to reflect in a way that he felt he hadn’t in so long, boxed in by the towers sprawling four walls and New York's sunken streets, towered over by the skyscrapers that cast large shadows over the city, made worse by the sullen grey clouds that had cursed the last month.

This felt like a little glimpse of freedom. What a thing to have after this long.

His mind was at peace as he headed towards the ‘palace’, his veil of invisibility dropping, a large stone building towards the centre of the now large town, soon to be city, all white pillars and stairs, a classic copy of the Ancient Greek architectural style, though probably far more similar to what you saw on American streets rather than Greeks’. It was determinedly more stylistic than the rest of New Asgard.

Unlike the palace of Asgard, though, this one was bustling, people spilling around the building not as servants but as citizens. It was a beautiful madhouse, chaos running rampant in its veins as people shouted and whispered and ran. Loki barely had time to take it in before every head turned towards him.

A rush of silence fell, a perfect stillness to complement the brash noise of just a second ago. A hundred pairs of eyes followed him as he walked, the crowds parting like the Red Sea as he made his way to the ‘throne room’ - now merely a conference room with no higher chair. His mother’s decision, he was sure, although Thor had not appeared to fight it.

Loki was used to keeping his head held high in the face of animosity; he was used to acting  _ dignified _ too, but he could not help the parasite burrowing into his heart, cracking the already fragile remains.

He just kept his chin up, as he always did, and swaggered his way through like he couldn’t even see them. He used to think he was above them, that he was fine because he was better, with some…new perspectives, he couldn’t be so sure.

Of course, yes, he was more talented in many aspects. But could he make a hammer better than the blacksmith? No. Could he steal the best one from a faraway planet? Sure. But it simply wasn’t the same thing. People had their talents and Loki had his. Just as he had his perspective and others had theirs, both of which had the right to be heard. Both of which were deserving of being heard.

His perspective was merely his own; he may believe it was more informed but as he’d learnt over the last months, he couldn’t be as secure in that as he’d hoped.

New information always came to light. New perspectives always came to light. Humans had taught him that change is fast and perpetual; perspectives change, taboos change, opinions change. 

So, for now, he would not think himself better, merely that they had a different perspective. Now it was simply his job to prove them wrong.

They had a right to be angry, he knew, for what he did. Just as he believed there should have been anger towards Thor - of which there was a growing unease as news spread, although he would never be overthrown, even without their mother in the picture.

But still, he had to prove to them that he’d changed. Because he had. He really believed he had. Not in himself; he would be hard-pressed to change his personality. But he had changed his approach, at least. He made an effort to be better even if it was just that, an effort. That made all the difference.

Well, as long as he didn’t fall back into old habits later. But that was a challenge for later.

After an eternity, consisting of merely a few seconds, Loki walked into the main room, surprised to see only his mother in there, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle outside. 

She stood, a wide smile stretching over her face. “You’re back,” she said, barely able to smother her silly grin, “you’re home.” She walked calmly over to him but it didn’t change the ferocity of her hug, clinging him close to her like he was still a child and coming up to her waist, not towering over her. 

“Yes,” he whispered quietly, just to say  _ something _ . There were too many words on offer, too many things to say. “I missed you.”

“Oh, I missed you too. So much. I’m glad you’re back.” She pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “How long are you here for?”

“Until Tuesday. My flight is in the early evening.” 

“Only a few days,” she sighed, before perking up. “Well, we will simply have to make the most of it. I have put many of the duties in Thor’s hands so we can spend some time together but I believe we will both have time free on Monday for a family meal.”

“No grand feast? Surely the Midgardian’s aren’t rubbing off on you so quickly.”

Frigga laughed. “I have learnt, as I presume you have, that they have many good customs. Family time is one of them. We do not need to bring the whole of Asgard together simply to be in the same room.”

Loki smiled wider. “That sounds brilliant to me.”

~*~

In the evening, Frigga took him to her home, a quaint but beautiful cabin on the edge of New Asgard. “I have always wished for something like this. I could have only hoped it would be in my forest back then. Though I am grateful for this world for giving me the opportunity to live it.”

It wasn’t quite in the middle of the woods but it was certainly isolated, in a small copse that the new houses were slowly building into as the Asgardians marvelled at the novelty of Earth’s nature. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

In an hour, they were settled, a mug of tea in front of Loki as Frigga stirred the stew, looking more like a stay-at-home mother than ever before. The regal posture had never faded but smiles seemed to come easier and she even seemed willing to throw on a frilly apron declaring she was the head of the household. It would have been hilarious if it hadn’t made Loki wish for another go at his childhood. He wondered whether Thor had unburdened her duties enough for her to be free; she certainly didn’t appear like a crown was weighing down on her head.

This Frigga, though...it only made him wish more that Frigga was his real mother; she had raised him,  _ of course _ she was his mother but he’d like to know that maybe some of her…good genes could have rubbed off.

But, well, nature vs nurture still had an argument to take place.

“So, how is New York?” She asked sagely, not turning around. Yet Loki understood the weight of the question. Was he okay? Were they hurting him? More importantly, did she need to change their agreement?

As much as Frigga believed New York was right for him, she would not let Loki suffer any more than was necessary to rehabilitate him. She was not one for mindless torture, not at all.

“It is wonderful. Really,” he added at her dubious look as she turned around, finally taking her own seat, hands clasped in front of her.

“Really?”

“Of course. My new team, they are…they have taught me a lot, despite recent events.”

“You appear melancholy. What has happened recently to have you so upset?”

“Their identities have been found out. That brings with it many fears for them. Wanda, the humans are scared of her. She is a powerful sorcerer, one who I have taken on as an apprentice; they can’t fathom such power and it makes them afraid. She could only live her life in secret. MJ, her mother is…fearful too. For good reason, the team understands, but she is vital to our team. But now, her mother will not let her visit us, nor continue training. Then Peter. He is Spiderman; he’s been a superhero for a while now. But his name being attached to such a well-known entity brings grave danger to his family and friends. He could not bear to lose another person. He has already lost both his parents and his uncle and there is a friend he constantly avoids speaking of. I can only imagine what happened to her.”

“And you have not found solutions?”

“I have, though not enough. We solved much of Peter’s plight. And in turn, Wanda’s to some extent too. Though we are waiting to see whether people can match her face to the unnamed superhero who fought in Sokovia. It is a matter of waiting; a ceaseless anxiety. But MJ, she is the hardest. Her mother is correct in many respects. But she does not understand that for what we have given, we have aimed to return. MJ had been put in a dangerous position as Peter’s friend - maybe more - already. Bucky has taught her to defend herself, even against powerful foes such as I.”

“It all sounds very complicated.”

“It is. I merely wish for a happy ending. I know they never come, not forever. But I wish for a rest, for the joy they had before.”

“You can’t rewind the clock.” They both knew that all too well. The Asgardians had lost their home, their family, their everything. Despite magic abound, no one could turn back time. What they had lost was lost forever. “But this team? They are good for you?”

“They are the best thing to happen to me in centuries,” Loki admitted, eyes locked on hers daringly, as if waiting for her reproach (Loki did understand that he seemed ungrateful at times, though he didn’t believe it was unfounded). She didn’t. 

“Then you will find a way.”

Of course, she was right. She would always be right.

~*~

Time passed sluggishly and Loki revelled in it. He spent time with his mother, and even a little time with his brother. He used the time to write, as he rarely had done in recent years. Asgardian literature was painfully static, as most of its art was. Its progress came in the art of war and architecture. The smaller arts, the ones deemed unimportant, were either ignored or unwittingly narrowed down by rules. Writing had a process you didn’t deviate from; a logic that you followed. But Loki had learnt so much from Midgardian literature: imagination, creativity and chaos. Rules weren’t meant to be followed but broken, with its own dangerous path of rules that could be bent and skewed and followed in tandem. It was a complicated mess, one that Loki enjoyed learning; another skill to add to his limitless knowledge. 

But it wasn’t just fiction that he found joy in, but non-fiction too. He began to talk to his people, as equals not a prince, and found out their knowledge on engineering. Everything from space vessels to simple mobilised toys. He wrote it all down. The maths, the design, all of it. Slowly but surely, they became less wary, if no less acidic. They gave their knowledge freely, if suspiciously, and contributed to the amalgamation of his own knowledge. 

He spent the morning of Tuesday binding it into a book, using his magic to speed up the process, finalising it with a golden imprint stating  _ The Asgardians’ Beginners Guide to Engineering: Volume I _ . Midgardian books always had such simple names, it would do to fit in.

It was on midday Tuesday that Loki went to see his mother for the last time in her cabin before he made the journey to Oslo to get his flight. They had recently put New Asgard on a bus route - although sadly only one - that would get him to the nearest city, where he could then take a much nicer train to his destination. 

He had almost come to think of this place as a second home already. It was like magic had infiltrated it and made it so. It was a beautiful combination of his mother, her Seiðr and the entirely unplaceable feeling of familiarity. 

It felt like a blessing to feel it but a curse to have to leave it.

He’d be back soon, he promised himself, though he did not know how he would manage to spin the tale to make it happen. Maybe they’d just let him-

He cut himself short. Trust made men fools.

He’d been allowed here because of his team but Bucky only had so much weight, especially in the face of Stark, whose relationship with him was so rocky. The Captain may have been exactly what his title suggested but Stark was everything else and he, by definition, held the reigns. 

Money made the world go round.

He knocked carefully, feeling like he ought to be gentle with the carved wooden door, ornate rather than thick. His mother answered immediately with a warm smile, ushering him inside, a pot of tea already ready on the table. 

“I will miss you,” she said immediately, cutting to the chase. He guessed that was essential; he didn’t have long until he had to leave. The journey was longer than he would have liked. Maybe one day New Asgard would have its own airport if it could ever grow big enough. Unfortunately, Earth did not look favourably upon territory wars, but maybe Norway would be kind enough to let them take more of the countryside, despite the problems it could cause. 

What a mess.

“I will miss you too. Home is not home without you.”

“You know you can come back whenever you want? I can demand it of them.”

“I know,” Loki lied. He would not let his mother’s hope die. “I will be back soon.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Though she looked unconvinced. “Now, I have something for you. Sit down and pour yourself a cup. I think you’ll be happy to see it.”

Loki followed the orders easily, taking a spot at the large, oak table, pouring the tea into his favourite mug (if only because it looked antique, although he knew it was barely a year old). 

Frigga followed him, taking a seat opposite and placing a bag onto the table. “For you. To help.”

Warily, Loki brought the bag to his side, peering inside. He almost reeled back. “Really?”

“Of course. I can hear how much they mean to you. I only wish that they do not fall apart before they can really take you on your path.”

“You really think they can?”

“You forget so often, I am the goddess of prophecy. I can  _ see _ it.”


	16. Family IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while so summary of last few chapters:
> 
> \- MJ's mum has banned her from being apart of the group due to the danger it poses: she mostly blamed Bucky in the process  
> \- Wanda, because of this, moved in with Steve and Bucky and is currently not turning up to groups or school  
> \- Peter is all a little bit taken aback by this but it otherwise trying to continue as usual  
> \- Loki went to Asgard and was given a mysterious, useful gift from his mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK! And surprisingly very happy with this chapter :) I hope it brings back some of the more humorous aspects whilst also dealing with the problems. 
> 
> But a note: I have entered the Stucky Bang for 2021 which means I'm busy on another fic. Especially because it's going to be the first fic I do a proper first and second draft for (since the lack of doing so on this one has really made my life difficult). Therefore, no regular updates. BUT, there will be updates. I'm writing this as a fun side piece and I have definitely found some more enjoyment in it recently so hopefully this all continues until I can wrap it up.
> 
> Until next time,  
> hope you all have a lovely day!  
> -fouryearslater
> 
> [credit notes, the two songs in this chapter are Darkside by Ty Dolla Sign and Future and The Chain by Fleetwood Mac :)]

Bucky’s weeks moved sluggishly, but the days travelled in light-years. He hadn’t been able to stop. Between the drama and the fighting and the anxiety, he’d barely had a moment to stop and think and reflect or just...he didn’t know, have peace, calm, some time to himself.

So, of course, on Wednesday morning, when he noticed that Wanda was gone and Steve was out on his run, he revelled in the relative aloneness of this quiet morning. He filled Alpine’s food bowl and collapsed onto the sofa with a mug of coffee, surprised when the white fur-ball came running into his lap, disregarding the food.

“Well hello, you.” Alpine meowed - somehow managing to look dignified, despite the unfortunate grittiness of her voice - and started to knead his leg until she deemed it suitable and curled up by his groin, purring softly when he started to stroke his flesh hand through her fur.

The oddity of the calm didn’t escape him but he did his best to stay present. He’d been so wrapped up in the future recently that he hadn’t taken the time to just have this. He’d barely had time to bond with Alpine except in passing moments, never mind how few moments he had with Steve.

His freedom was meant to bring so much with it, yet he felt like he’d squandered the time he’d had and now he only had this: a slow drag of perpetual anxiety, punctuated by brief moments of happiness that he didn’t have the time to enjoy. It was melodramatic, he was fully aware, but he was alone, he could be as nihilistic as he wanted. So rather than, you know, get up and do something productive, he let himself just sit and think. He rounded corners he didn’t want to touch (seventy years of things he didn’t want to touch) and drifted through the good and the bad as well as he could. Processing always took a while but he had techniques - therapy certified and everything - and he tried to parse his way through it all without feeling overwhelmed. Alpine’s fur acted as a grounding, his flesh hand running calmly through the silky white fur. 

All in all, it must have only taken ten minutes. Then, just as he had every other time, he collected the pieces and built himself back up and prepared himself for another day.

He slowly peeled Alpine off his lap with profuse apologies and made himself breakfast, showered and made himself a far cry more presentable than the last few days. He aimed high, putting on something that felt like it was a leap out of his current comfort zone, giving himself a much-needed push. It wasn’t a dramatic change, nothing outside of his personality, but the combination of skinny cropped trousers, in a shade of black that could only be described as impossibly dark, and a jazzy black shirt with an unidentifiable white pattern covering it, buttoned low on his chest, gave an aura of both professionalism and style. Matching it with a pair of newly shined, Oxford shoes, he felt like a million bucks, even if his smile didn’t quite match.

Well, it would do. 

He didn’t have anything to do until their session at five, the earliest Peter could make it from school. Ostensibly, Wanda was supposed to be at school but daily updates from Peter said otherwise. Where Wanda was going, Bucky wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t be back until after school, though, sometime around four, giving Bucky about twenty minutes before they both had to head for the Tower. It wouldn’t nearly be long enough but it would be enough for  _ something _ . After all, he only needed a simple answer, even if the solution was going to be far from simple itself.

So, he spent the day catching up on chores, playing with Alpine and then starting on a Professor Layton game on his phone, tucked up against Steve’s side. (Steve enjoyed it far more but they liked to do the puzzles together). It was a slow and lazy day, punctuated by light laughter and a general sense of nonchalance. There was nowhere to be and nothing urgent to do; they could do as they liked.

By the time four rolled around, Bucky was settled again; even the tightness of his trousers wasn’t enough to discomfort him. Steve was working away in the kitchen, trying to prepare Bucky a snack for before he went, as Bucky scrolled through the news with a frown, when Wanda came in through the front door.

“Oh. I…I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“Hm…decided to go a little later today, chance the subway delays,” Bucky hummed, refusing to look up at her just yet, maintaining an air of disregard, enough to make her comfortable so he could get down to the core of this before she fled. 

“Oh. That’s…good.”

“You should come with. It’d be nice to see you at the sessions again.” Bucky finally put his phone down and looked up at her, careful to make his features soft, a gentle smile here, a loosened jaw there, Black Widow tricks, really, but hopefully used for good. 

“Oh, um, I’ve got something to do.”

“That’s fine, I guess. Peter misses you, though. Says you haven’t been at school for a few days.”

“I…I’ve been busy.”

Bucky hummed and sighed, doing his best disappointed-parent look. It was only after having a teenager in the house that Bucky learnt why his mother had used it so much. Wanda, never one to get riled up, just nodded in defeat and scurried to her room.

“Fuck,” Bucky mumbled, rubbing his face with the balls of his palms. 

“You’ll get through to her,” Steve said softly from the doorway, a cling-filmed sandwich in one hand. “It’ll be fine.”

“Maybe.”

“I…I’m…I think I’m gonna try talking to her again. It’s worth being late for.”

“You’ve still got plenty of time; you’re too fussy about getting there early. Peter and Loki won’t mind you being late. Those two seem to be getting along pretty well anyway.” 

“You seem  _ so _ pleased about that,” Bucky drawled with a cheeky smile. 

“You know I’m still unsure about him. But he’s good for the group, I can see it, so I’m not going to say anything more about it.”

Bucky kissed his cheek. “Where did you ever learn restraint?”

“Natasha,” he deadpanned. Bucky barked a laugh and headed to Wanda’s room with a half-arsed wave behind him. 

He heard before he saw her, the gentle strum of a guitar - slightly out of tune, but improving regardless. The tune of someone who’d only just started learning but was a natural regardless. Sometimes Bucky could hear it from his room, the sound of repetitive notes that pissed the hell out of Steve but lulled him pretty easily to sleep. This time, though, he heard more: the gentle cadence of a voice. The words were indistinguishable but there, masked by the louder strum of notes. 

And then-

_ “Some days I can't get out of my head _

_ “That's just the dark side of me _

_ “Some nights, it's hard for me to fall asleep _

_ “That's just the dark side of me _

“Okay, so now I know something’s  _ gotta _ be wrong,” Bucky drawled, a small, empathetic smile on his lips. “No one sings emo shit like that without feeling down.”

“You know what emo is?”

“I googled it after Peter said Loki was one. I was very enlightened.”

“You’re such an old man.”

“That I am. Now, come on, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s…it’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not. A lot’s going on right now, it’s alright to be upset.”

Wanda fidgeted for a minute, her eyes darting to every point of the room before they finally landed on Bucky. After a few deliberated seconds, she finally spoke, her words carefully chosen. “…It’s MJ. I-I’m sorry for not turning up, I’m - um - just being a coward, I guess. I don’t think I can face her. Not after all the rest of the...stuff happened.”

Bucky looked at her face, scanned all the little details, trying to parse them. It made sense, when it came to school. Wanda and MJ’s relationship was fragile and tense at the moment, possibly entirely broken. It didn’t explain not turning up to the sessions, though, especially when she knew MJ wasn’t allowed to go. 

“But you’re still not going to come today? MJ won’t be there.”

Wanda’s face fell, her lips pursed to the point of whiteness, like she was biting back a sob or a shout. “I know. I just…I can’t today. I’m sorry.”

Bucky frowned but let it go. He didn’t want to push her; there was no point in hurting her for no reason. Except…”that’s fine. But you know I’m going to have to push the school thing. I know you’re in pretty exceptional circumstances and there’s a lot of confusion around who you are but your education is important. If we need to move you to a different school, that’s fine, but you can’t lose on learning because of our stupid drama.”

“…okay. Can we…can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“‘Course. I just want you to be okay, alright?”

“Yeah, I get it. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. Be good for Steve!”

He ignored her muttering, “you’re not my dad,”; he didn’t even need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. 

With that, he had no choice but to leave her to her own devices.

~*~

A few days passed, their session happened as usual and Bucky and Wanda finally sat down and talked about the whole situation. Whilst there was still some dishonesty in her admissions, she was appearing more, at least, less likely to sneak around to avoid prying eyes. She agreed to go back, without transferring. Honestly, it was a surprise Bucky even had to push. She  _ loved _ school; not so much school itself, but just the fact that she could go, especially to such a good one, after everything that had happened to her. But Bucky had to remind himself how heavy these situations felt on teenage shoulders. They felt heavy on  _ his _ shoulders; he could only start to empathise with how this felt.

If goddamn relationship drama made teenagers think the world was going to end, this was going to be pretty high up there. 

But as much as he could, Bucky put it aside. Wanda was going back to school - to which Peter had messaged him gratefully, glad to have another friend back - and was careful around MJ, though, apparently, the two could trade sentences now. It wasn’t a friendship, in fact, it was more like devastation, but it was a step in the right direction.

Now Bucky just had to climb the mountain. 

Still, Bucky was clever enough not to let his life get bogged down in it. Not now, not anymore. He understood that you had to make the most out of the bad and even when it was all going to shit around you, you took care of yourself. Self-care, after all, was a motto everyone should live by. So, instead of moping, he called Loki and finally got to do something he always wanted to do: a shopping trip with an alien.

Okay, maybe not  _ always _ but it was pretty darn impressive regardless. 

A few back and forths with Loki - who always answered his phone instantaneously which was both worrying and useful - and they were set up to meet in an hour, which just left Bucky with enough time to get ready.

After at least five minutes of deliberating, Bucky ended up with a long, woollen trench coat over black jeans and a deep blue shirt. It was up-market enough to go into a fancy shop without feeling like a fool but not so ostentatious that he would feel out of place taking the subway; things like that drew stares and no matter Bucky’s newfound confidence, a dangerous friend called Paranoia would always win. 

With a quick goodbye to Steve, a sneak into Wanda’s room to check she’d gone to school (or at least left the house and pretended to), he tucked his wallet and keys into the deep pocket of his coat and headed out. 

Loki met him on the corner of 1 and 81st, leaning casually in the midst of the bustling city. He was like a diamond in the rough. Surrounded by haggard families and overworked office jockeys, he was a beacon of perfection, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his cropped, grey trousers, a neat green polo-neck tucked in to show off the subtle black belt. He’d even outdone Bucky in the coat game, the black, wool blazer irritatingly well-fitting.

On anyone else, the outfit would have been pretentious. It  _ was _ pretentious but Loki wore it so well; it shouldn’t have worked but Loki was just alien enough for it to fit him perfectly. And goddammit, Bucky was  _ jealous _ . A kind type of jealousy; not the bitter rage but the lighter longing that had made up a lot of his younger years. The kind that said ‘I wish I had what they had’ but didn’t have you robbing people’s houses for it, or turning vindictive when you couldn’t. 

“You trying to outdo me?” Bucky joked as he approached, his smile small and fitting; those big, unbridled grins of his youth didn’t suit him anymore, they just looked wrong on his face, he’d stared at himself enough in the mirror to know that (sue him, so he was a little vain). And that was okay. He’d moved on, he was a changed man, and he was just as happy with this new him as he was the jerk in 1930s Brooklyn.

“Of course not. I just happen to look like this permanently.” Loki, as usual, kept a straight face; an edge of serious edging into his words. Bucky had quickly learnt to wave it away, take it for the humour it was and let Loki’s ego work itself out in the long run. There was nothing you could do about a man’s ego but wait for it to compare itself to everyone else, and hopefully take itself down a few notches. That, or go through a long and twisted character arc that gets you there regardless. Then again, the Tony Stark method wasn’t exactly preferable. The Bucky Barnes method even less.

So he laughed and followed Loki down the street and into the first store. It was hidden away well, shimmied between a rundown laundromat and an upper-class Italian restaurant (welcome to New York), which no doubt both cost an exorbitant amount. Loki walked in with the confidence of a man who was returning to a place he knew well, opening unlabelled doors until they found themselves in a small loft, racks of clothes covering each and every portion of wall, a tall window flooding natural light into the cramped space.

“Louis!” A small girl cried, jumping out from a rack that Bucky had thought was pushed against the wall and almost had him running back down the stairs in fright. But he was better than that now, and even though his heart was suddenly pounding at a thousand miles an hour, he kept his feet planted steadily. This was something to enjoy, not be ruined by lingering memories. 

“Francis. I didn’t know you’d be in today.”

“Oh, you know Win, she finds out about some new fabric and is running across New York.”

“That happen often?” Bucky asked, who only knew of a total of about five different fabrics. 

“Oh,  _ all _ the time. And you are?”

“Bucky. Barnes. Yes,  _ that _ Bucky Barnes. Shit, sorry, was that presumptuous? I…um, don’t get out very often,” he rambled, eyes slowly taking on a panicked edge; goddammit, this is what happened when he tried communicating whilst still on edge.

Luckily, the girl just laughed. “Francis,” she repeated and thankfully didn’t hold out her hand. She was a little thing, barely over five foot, but the look in her eye was knowing, clever beyond what people would see in her, with her childish freckles, rounded face and curly, light brown bob. “Now, what can I do for you both?”

“Oh, well Bucky was just admiring my beautiful clothes and I thought I’d bring him to you. You do make wonderful pieces.”

“Oh stop it you flatterer. But that I can do. What kind of pieces are you thinking?”

“Um, can I have a look around?”

“Oh, these are mostly just practices, things for shows and returns, not really sale items. But feel free to get some ideas. We mostly do bespoke tailoring.”

“Oh…um, okay. That’s…that’s a lot of clothes to not be selling.” You really couldn’t take the Depression out of the man.

Ends up, Francis was a goddamn miracle, ignoring his awkwardness in favour of another tinkling laugh, urging him towards the nearest rack. “They go to good use. Now have a look and tell me what you like.”

After that, time went in a rush. Bucky got lost in the outfits and patterns, even trying on a multitude of pieces to see what colours would work best, whilst being berated for thinking the fit was okay when it was in fact ‘hanging off you, you poor bastard’. Loki made his own search through the clothing but ended up with nothing, whilst Bucky had placed an order for two shirts, a pair of slacks and an embroidered coat that was going to be the treasure of his life.

In the end, two hours had passed, maybe just a little more, and Loki led them towards a cafe just three blocks away that served artisan cafe at another ludicrous price that Loki covered because he was still learning generosity (which was really an excuse for Bucky to be a cheapskate but he elected not to mention, or think about, that). 

In true hipster fashion, Loki elected to get the most complicated drink on the menu whilst Bucky struggled through saying the word ‘Frappuccino’ with a straight face and took the table nearest to the counter, one of them facing the entrance and the other the staff door: covering both exits.

“So, I have something for you.”

“You do?” For a moment, Bucky felt only caution, maybe some worry, before it dissipated into something lighter, possibly excitement but probably just anticipation. Honestly, his hold on his moods right now was light at best. As dulled as they’d been for the last few months, it was very hard to tell the close ones apart. Only another thing to add onto the pile to panic about later. For now, presents.

“I was going to show you them on Wednesday but, well, I thought it best to show you first. They’re not dangerous by any means but I did not wish to get Peter’s hopes up. I know you are more pragmatic in that department.”

“Can’t fault that logic.”

Loki pulled a small tote bag in his pocket (or rather magicked it because in no way was that able to fit in his pocket), and presented it on the table. “Look through it,” he urged. 

Once again cautious, Bucky reached for the bag with his metal hand, aware that Loki was, in fact, a trickster god and this all could be an elaborate prank and peered inside to see…

Vials. And a scroll or two. And some orb that honestly, Bucky wasn’t too interested in touching for the sake of his sanity. “…what is all this?”

“A variety of things. Glamours, protection spells, a magician’s armour as it were. After telling my mother of our plight, she offered these as aid. In no way can it fix everything but I believe it can help. If Wanda is still worried, I know her magic cannot produce glamours, but a potion can and may even be enhanced by her inherent magic. MJ may benefit from the protection spells and if we show her mother then maybe she will…well, I do not like to be optimistic, but perhaps it is another item in our arsenal.”

“That’s…thank you,” Bucky said sincerely, his eyes soft. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Thank my mother. And I think I did. I know you do not blame me for this and even I can reasonably see that it was not my fault directly. But it still feels like I am a nail in the coffin. And anyway, I was rather fond of Wanda, I’d like to bring her back. I don’t like my apprentice disappearing on me.”

“And MJ?” Bucky asked with a smirk.

“Well, I guess she’s  _ okay _ . It was nice to have another long-suffering participant in the mix.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit.” But Bucky was just smiling. 

~*~

“JARVIS, music on!” 

It started out quiet, a mere whisper of a song, a click and a hum and then suddenly,  _ listen to the wind blow… _

“You’re actually playing it!” Peter delighted, sprinting across the lab with an almost feral grin. He lost himself in here, among the sleek edges and hectic organisation of computer and material alike.

“You said you liked it.”

“But you  _ only _ ever play horrible metal songs!”

“I don’t only- they are not horrible!” Tony Stark screeched. 

“Yes, they are!” Peter cheered before darting over to the other side of the lab again, where Spiderbot was spinning in lazy circles, his arm a little limp. He was in need of dire maintenance. Grabbing a screwdriver (a personalised one because that was what Tony was like and as much as it terrified Peter, he wasn’t going to say no to free stuff), he got to work, humming along to the gentle rhythm of the bass line. Much better than metal.

“Whatcha working on?”

“Spiderbot. His arm isn’t moving properly. Think I just need to tighten the screws.”

“Huh. Might be time for an upgrade.”

“Nah, he’s brilliant just the way he is.” Dumb, inefficient and funny; exactly what Peter wanted. 

“Everything can be improved.”

“Not when it’s already perfect.”

“Well, I did make him and I  _ am _ a genius.” Peter laughed and waved him off, screwing the bolt in tight and motioning for Spiderbot to copy his actions; he was good at that, he just wasn’t so good at the whole working for himself thing. The movement was a little jagged and slow but it  _ was _ moving. Not perfect but it would have to do, Peter would come back later and get some gel to make the movement smoother and maybe tighten the bolt more. For now, Spiderbot was functional (and maybe he’d stop spinning in slow circles with a mechanical whine, like some sort of metal toddler). 

Slowly, Peter made his way back to Tony, peering over his shoulder at the rapid-fire code on the screen. “Whatcha working on?”

Tony jumped. “Oh my god, you’re going to give me a heart attack. And trust me, they are  _ not _ fun.”

“Sorry,” Peter said, as if this hadn’t happened a thousand times before, and hid his chuckle behind his hand. 

“You’re a menace.”

“Sure am, sir.”

“Oh god, I thought we’d gotten rid of the sir thing.”

“Never, sir.”

“This is all that time with Loki and…” Tony faked a shudder, “ _ Barnes _ .” Who knew Bucky would take the lead ahead of Loki in terms of top people on Tony’s hate list. 

“Maybe, sir.”

“I  _ will _ kick you out of this lab.”

“Of course you will…Sir.”

“Ugh! This is why I don’t do  _ people _ anymore. Always so…annoying.”

“You’re an extrovert, sir.”

“I give up! Out! Out!”

“Of course, sir.” But Peter just went back to Spiderbot and tried to find the best way to grease the bolt without messing with Spiderbot’s odd aversion to all liquids (well, maybe not odd, all machines should have a healthy wariness about most liquids. Especially ones that did not run on the stuff). 

Fifteen minutes passed, the music switching back to something definitely akin to metal, though Tony was being kind to Peter’s ears by putting on some of the…tamer songs. (The one time he played Slipknot for a laugh was a moment Peter will never forgive him for). The sounds of the lab lulled Peter into a vulnerable calm, just the clank of metal and the quiet tip-tap of Tony on the keyboard to fill the background of the music. It was loud and messy yet it was all in the background. Peter found himself adrift in his thoughts, his hands working by themselves, going through the routine of something that - by now - was pretty familiar. 

“So, I have a solution for you.” Tony’s voice was like a lightning strike down the middle. Not because he was speaking. Normally, Tony was  _ always _ speaking (that man didn’t really do silence, hence the whole really loud music thing). But because of what he said.

“Solution to what?”

“Your team’s problem.”

“You…you’re going to help us?” As much as Peter worked with Tony, was friends with him, they kept their teams separate. They weren’t so much a pair as they were two people on the fringes of each group, meeting in the middle. Well, maybe not the fringe, but they were purposefully standing on the edge. 

“Yup. You know why? Because I have an idea and when I have an idea, I do the idea because I’m great like that.”

“…okay?”

“So, look, you have a problem, right? Loads of teenage friendship drama, blah-blah-blah, not my problem, you can sort that out with all your empathetic human-y feelings and all. But I have a practical solution. Your friend Wonder Woman, her mum is all up in arms about safety and that and, well, you and your aunt are in a pretty precarious position and currently Wanda is living in two grown men’s house that definitely aren’t her relatives and Loki, against my very important wishes, it still living under my roof. So, plan, young Avengers household. Still in New York, still close, can reach your school without problems. I can even make a goddamn subway station if it has to be pushed further out. But a building to house your ragtag team, just as this Tower holds mine. Most of them, anyway. And most of yours. Steve and Barnes will forever resist the absolute wonderful offer of not having to live in that godawful-“

“It isn’t awful!”

“Ugh, still, they could have  _ this _ . Anyway, so, what do you think? Young Avengers complex.”

“We are not the Young Avengers. Bucky’s older than you. And Loki. And we’re not even Avengers.”

“Semantics. When you get a team name, I can stop calling you the Young Avengers.”

“But Bucky won’t  _ let us _ .”

“Then that sucks for you. Should have got a less murder-y leader. You were the one that chose the wrong side.”

“I-“

“Anyway, you in?”

“For what?”

“Did you listen to a single word I said?”

“Yes. I just…I don’t think I understand. You know, that’s a lot…you’re talking about. Like, a lot of money.”

“And I have a lot of money. Come on, I can make a new training facility, new housing. If you can get them to agree to it, MJ and her mum can move too, if she’s so worried about safety. Loki will go away. Wanda can get a place again and maybe stop moping in every training session. Even JARVIS is getting depressed. It’s the perfect solution!”

“That’s…that’s very nice of you but that really is a lot and I don’t even know if it will solve everything-“

“Nothing will, kid. We both know that,” Tony said, suddenly serious. “Look, I know how shit this has been on all of you but you guys need to take the first steps to sorting this all out or else all hell will break loose.”

“I need to think about this.”

“Talk to your Aunt too. But think about it: better living standards, I can even get your Aunt closer to  _ her _ job. Though I might really need to get started on that subway. It’s not gonna take that long. Or, well, maybe, but I’m testing nanotech technology on the building process  _ and _ I’m rich so I can, you know, fast-track stuff. It might not be fully done that soon but it’ll definitely have some rooms and stuff in a month or two.”

“Two months?!”

“I’m a rich genius, I can do it in two months.”

“Stark Tower took a year to repair.”

“Well I didn’t have nanotech then, did I?”

“Are you sure-“

“I’m really starting to think you don’t believe in my genius.”

“I do! I do! I just…this all seems a bit…unreal.”

“Welcome to the superhero life, kid, none of it ever feels real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to meet people in the fandom. I’m @fouryearslater1 on Twitter 😊💖


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